Old White Lincoln
by Audrey Kasm
Summary: Loki is sentenced to living life as a mortal, his power and memories stripped from him. When he lands on Earth, he has no clue who he is or was. All the reminder he has of Asgard is a ring. He starts anew, meeting a girl, getting a job. He is happy. That is, until his power is renewed and he decides to seek vengeance. LokixOC Rated for adult language/themes
1. Punishment: An Introduction

**Author Note: Hello, dear readers. Please allow me to begin by saying that this is not your average Loki fic. It is backwards, honestly. We start out with gentleman Loki and will eventually get God of Evil Loki. Even when he is "human" he will have his personality quirks, but he's more mischievous than evil overlord. Pairing him with an OC may also not be the most popular of decisions, but in this circumstance, I really feel like there is little other choice.**

**The title will make sense later. Especially if you listen to the song by the Gaslight Anthem of the same name.**

**This is just the intro, setting the stage and all that. Next chapter will be longer! **

**Enjoy! Please** R&R!

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Loki, Thor, The Avengers, etc all belong to Marvel. I only own Alice (and you won't meet her until the next chapter).**

* * *

Punishment.

The word greeted Loki the moment he was taken from Stark tower. It followed him through time and space, through the abyss, and finally came to echo off the walls of his Asgardian prison. Nothing seemed quite cruel enough a fate for the God of Mischief. It made Loki smirk every time he heard them debating. For each plan they began to make, he easily thought of an escape. After all, the God of Mischief was nothing if not cunning. He had little worry that he would be able to outwit them all and avoid any punishment they threw at him.

That is, until his actual sentencing. On that day, he was sat in front of the High Council of Asgard, who were all seated behind their tall golden table, his once-father sitting proudest and tallest on his chair of honor. And yet, under that proud exterior, Loki could tell Odin was cringing at the thought of having to publicly embarrass his family like this. This brought a certain bit of pride to Loki, and Odin saw it.

_Good_, he thought._ Let him see what he has made me, and the power I have gained without the help of the "great" Odin._

Loki was made to kneel before the counsel at his brother's hand, as if he were inferior to these gutless elders. He could overthrow them in mere minutes given the proper means. However, he had no time to dwell on such things, as Odin had just cleared his throat, preparing to sentence his adopted son to whatever "punishment" the council had come up with.

A bit of shifting earned Loki a tight squeeze to the shoulder from his brother- no, not his brother. They had never been brothers.

"It will be alright brother," Thor promised. "After you are punished you will be welcomed back to Asgard. We will have a royal feast…be a family again."

"Your dreams of family are all for naught," Loki hissed. "We were never a family. I was simply your shadow."

Thor's face darkened, but he did not have a chance to retaliate as Odin began to speak.

"Loki of Asgard," Odin began, only to be cut off by a snort from Loki. Glowering down at the dark haired boy, Odin continued. "Loki of Asgard, the council has come to a decision as to what punishment you shall receive for your heinous crimes against both Asgard and Midgard."

Smirking, Loki looked up at the elders with his chin held high. What was the worst they could do? Banish him? As if that would matter. He supposed they could strip him of his power, as his father had done to Thor, but he would still know who he was, his birthright to rule all the pathetic humans of Midgard, and no matter where he was banished to, Loki knew he could find a way to regain his power.

"As punishment for such," the All-Father went on, you will be stripped of your power, your memories will be taken, and you shall be forced to live on Earth as a mortal. You will have no recollection of ever being Loki of Asgard…or my son."

That, Loki had to admit, he was not expecting. He had no out for that.

"Father!" Thor objected. "Father you cannot do this. He is my brother!"

But Odin was having none of it. He held up a hand to silence his son's outburst. Beside him, Thor shook with rage as the council descended from their table.

It took no time for the Elders to get to work, he was promptly stripped of his power, felt it drain from his fingers and into an emerald ring. His garb changed promptly as well, the armor was stripped away and he was left in his black tunic and trousers. Memories would be the last to go, disappearing as he made his inevitable plummet toward Earth.

A procession led him to where the great bridge once stood. Thor was fuming, and Loki vaguely noticed that two of his warrior friends were holding him back, making sure that he didn't run to his brother's rescue at the last moment.

After a moment's hesitation, Odin sighed.

"I am so sorry…my son," he apologized, but Loki was having none of it.

"You're not my father," Loki spat. "Stop pretending to love me as your own."

Hurt showed on Odin's old face, but he didn't seem as hesitant to begin chanting now, saying the spell that would damn Loki to live a mortal life on Earth. Thor began howling again, spewing empty promises to come and save him, to make sure he was not alone. Loki knew, especially now, that this could never be.

Something near fear flickered in the back of Loki's mind. Though he wasn't one to give up, he didn't see much getting out of this. Disdainfully, his gaze fell to the floor, which was when a green glint caught his eye. The ring…he still had the ring. It would contain all his memories, his power, and Odin had forgotten to take it from him.

Now if he could just remember one thing, it had to be the importance of that ring. If he could just-

The chanting was coming to a close now and Loki prepared himself for the end, for mortality, for punishment. A scepter touched his head and he went spiraling into the abyss.

Glimpses of his life flashed before his eyes, of his accomplishments, his short fallings, living in the shadow of his brother. But it was all slowly fading, slowly being sucked away by the ring. It was almost healing, in a way. Perhaps this new life wouldn't be so bad…

He scoffed at the very notion that a mortal life could ever be acceptable. A God in his own right, Loki was meant to be worshipped, not turned mortal by someone who had never understood him, never would understand him.

The Earth was nearing now, rushing up to meet him. He could see blue oceans, quickly morphing into a vast green stretch of land, getting closer by the second.

Loki Laufeyson collided harshly with the Earth and everything went black. By the time he awoke, he would believe his past to be a bad dream. That is, if he could recall anything at all.


	2. Boomboxes and Dictionaries

**Author Note: This chapter takes place roughly a year after Loki's fall. Yes, he is a gentleman and somewhat insufferably cute. I think it fitting (and he acts a bit like Tom, which made sense to me). He was raised noble, and noblemen treat their women with respect. Plus, since he doesn't remember his past, he it would lessen his…issues.**

**The name of the record store, Vertigo, comes from the record store downtown. I really like it and basically based the whole shop off it. Loki's name, John Walker, comes from the whiskey, but we'll get into that later And, yes, Wheaton Illinois is a real place. It's a college town.**

**Also, each chapter is named after a song that coincides with it.**

* * *

The day Alice McCormick met Loki Laufeyson he was not going by that name. He had no memory of ever being the God of Mischief, or of Asgard, or any of his past life. In fact, when he walked into the small downtown Chicago shop that Alice worked in, he was celebrating the first year anniversary of him life as Jonathan Walker.

A little bell tinkled as he opened the shop door, making the girl at the counter look up from her book. "Good Omens" was the title. He liked that book; one of the nurses had brought it for him to read during the months he was in the hospital.

The girl nodded at him, a smile peaking out behind her mess of burgundy hair. Beneath the sleeves of her sweater, he could see the beginnings of tattoos that appeared to cover both arms, a common trait of women in the area. Admittedly, he was somewhat fond of them and the rebellion they were meant to signify.

"Hello," she greeted, pulling the sleeves down to cover her forearms when she noticed his gaze. "Welcome to Vertigo!"

"Hello," he said, wandering up to the counter, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. "I was wondering if you could assist me in finding an album."

"If it's a good one," she smirked.

He recognized this as sarcasm, something he still occasionally was not good at picking up on. The doctors blamed it on the head trauma he obviously suffered the night he lost his memory.

"Well, I should certainly think it is," he chuckled. "After all, I picked it."

Despite her giggling, she tried to give him a look of condescension.

"You question my taste?" he observed. "You know, you're quite snarky for a shop keeper."

"It's part of my charm," she smiled. "I'm Alice, by the way."

"Jonathan," he replied, extending a hand with a winning smile. "Jonathan Walker; John, actually. It's a pleasure to meet you Alice."

"John." She repeated his name fondly. He really liked the way she said it. "You have a fantastic accent, John. Now, what is this record that you're looking for?"

"Well, I only know the one song actually," he admitted.

"That's a terrible way to decide if you want an entire album."

Annoyed, he rolled his eyes at her, which only made her laugh.

"You know," he teased. "I could just go to the music store down the street. They might not be so quick to judge, or help me find what I'm seeking at the very least."

"No!" she insisted. "I'm sorry. What's the song?"

"I believe it's called 'Boomboxes and Dictionaries'."

"The Gaslight Anthem song?" The disbelief in her voice was quite obvious. "I don't know if we have it, actually. See, it's kind of a rare album to find on vinyl and they aren't a super popular band. I can definitely order it for you if we don't. It might just be a little pricey."

"Money is no object," he shrugged.

"Figures," she snorted. "You talk like a noblemen. You're probably loaded."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Of course not. They never do."

"Was that supposed to be an insult?"

Biting her lip, she shook her head.

"No," she defended quickly. "Just a general observation."

Obviously she was flustered by her quick tongue and it seemed to embarrass her. However, he couldn't help finding it hilarious.

"What's so funny?" she challenged, coming around to the front of the counter and sweeping past him toward the rows of records.

"Oh, I just didn't mean to fluster you so," he smirked.

"It's a good album," she replied, brushing off her outburst and pointedly ignoring the real issue. "I really like it, but because the band isn't very well known, I can't really afford to keep it in stock all the time, you know?"

"Do you have any of their other work?" he offered.

"It depends on what you're looking for. I know we have some CDs, but vinyl is really the way to go, especially with their work."

"Vinyl is preferable," he nodded. "I am rather fond of having records."

Smiling approvingly, she led him toward one of the aisles toward the front of the store.

As he followed her, he caught himself staring, drinking in the way she walked. It wasn't even necessarily her looks that had him so attracted to her. She had a contagious energy, so full of life, so genuine and honest and opinionated. The way she bounced and waved her hands as she explained things was absolutely adorable. Yet, he couldn't help finding it odd. There were not many women who really stood out to him like she did.

It was then he realized she was still talking and he hadn't been listening to a word. She seemed to be going on about a shipment of records that was supposed to get to the store that day, but had yet to show up.

"I know for sure we are getting a few copies in this order," she blathered. "See, I haven't been here for like…a week, so it's been up to one of my newbies to do orders and stuff. And even though I've told her a few hundred times that we need to order this stuff, she doesn't really now how things work."

Admittedly, he wasn't following what she was saying. Then again, she didn't really have to make sense as long as she continued radiating that intense happiness of hers. It felt as though he could feed off it and live for centuries.

"Here we are," she grinned. "Gaslight Anthem."

For a moment she flipped through the collection of records, face brightening when she found the one he was looking for.

"Looks like you're in luck, Mr. Walker," she grinned.

"Please, John is just fine," he insisted. "And thank you."

"No problem. We also have their album 'The '59 Sound', if you're interested. It's got this cool Bob Dylan feel to it."

"Sounds fascinating," he smirked. "I would like that one as well."

The huge smile consuming her face was enough to make it well worth his money. They circled back around to the counter and she began ringing up his items.

"I have to ask," she said as she slipped the covers into plastic sleeves. "Where are you from? Your accent is fantastic."

For a moment he was silent, thinking hard to decide exactly how to explain his situation. The past year had all been rather confusing, being found in a ditch with five broken ribs, the memory of everything up until that point completely absent from his mind. He couldn't even remember his name; Jonathan Walker was a name one of the nurses had suggested.

"Well," he mumbled. "I honestly don't remember."

"A mysterious traveler then," she surmised. "Very cool. But, seriously, even country would be helpful. I really cannot place it."

"Neither can I," he insisted, a little too intensely judging from the look on Alice's face. "I mean, I…the short version is I suffered head trauma and suffered a bit of amnesia."

"What's the long version?"

"Oh, I shouldn't think we have time for that right now."

"Right now, no." The smile that was beginning to take her lips turned mischievous as she added, "But we could go to dinner and you could tell me."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise at her invitation. Girls were not usually so forward with him. For whatever reason, most found him somewhat intimidating.

"I would enjoy that very much," he agreed. "When?"

"Well," she shrugged. "I'm really hungry now. We could go get something from the coffee house on the corner. They have great sandwiches."

"I am quite famished myself," he agreed. "Shall we wrap up here and then you can allow me to escort you to dinner?"

"It sounds so much better when you say it," she chuckled.

He was tempted to disagree.

* * *

By the end of dinner, Alice was absolutely intoxicated by her new friend. He was charismatic, charming, and entirely too handsome for his own good. From the perfectly sculpted cheekbones, to the long dark hair, to his hands with their long spidery fingers, he was nothing short of beautiful. Not to mention he was tall and slim and had the most glorious emerald eyes.

But looks weren't really important. Not in the grand scheme of things.

No, the most attractive thing about John Walker was his intelligence. For a man who had no memory of his entire life up to the last year, he was smarter than a whip. On top of being well versed in literature and art, two of Alice's favorite subjects, he was equally as intelligent when it came to one of her favorite subjects, music.

Though not quite as familiar with the subject as she (not that she could blame him, most had not run their father's record store since the age of 16), his taste was just as eclectic as he had promised. Everything from classical to death metal graced his iPod (which he had offered up after a notable amount of debate, likely because he was ashamed of his soft spot for pop music).

"It takes a real man to enjoy Lady Gaga," she teased, earning an annoyed glare from him as he chewed on his sandwich. "You even have all three albums!"

"You are infuriating, you know that?" he grumbled, but she could see the humor in his face. "Sometimes one needs some feel good music."

"And yours is Gaga?"

"Can you just overlook that? There are some real classics on that device and you pick out the one guilty pleasure." He paused, smirking as she rolled her eyes at him. "Besides, you cannot honestly say you don't sing 'Bad Romance' when you're alone in the car and it comes on the radio."

Reluctantly, she conceded the point.

"Fine, but that doesn't mean I actually enjoy it," she groused.

"You are such a liar," he chuckled. "I can see right through you."

His gaze made her stomach feel like it was turning cartwheels and she tried hard to ignore it. Never before had she met a man that had done that to her, at least, not upon first meeting him.

Awkwardly, she pulled her sweater a bit more tightly around her shoulders. The thought of felling so open to someone so soon after meeting made her uneasy. It wasn't like her and she didn't like it.

When she looked back up at him, he was staring at her intently.

"What?" she demanded.

"Nothing!" he insisted defensively. "You're just…"

"An incredibly bad liar?" she guessed, smiling despite herself.

"I was going to go with incredibly passionate, but your deception skills are a bit lax."

"I'm going to go ahead and take that as a compliment."

"As you should. Few women share your enthusiasm about such intelligent topics."

Blushing, she shook her head and desperately tried to think of a way to change the topic.

"So, what do you do?" she inquired. "What are you passionate about?"

For a moment he thought, his expression unreadable.

"A great many things," he sighed. "I should think that anyone who isn't passionate about a great many things would be rather boring. We've already discussed many of my passions, but I suppose my greatest is art. It's what I do, after all; I paint."

"What do you paint?"

"Various things." Shrugging, he paused, running an almost agitated hand through his hair. "My dreams mostly." It sounded almost painful for him to admit. "I mean, for as long as I can remember I've dreamt of the stars, planets, long forgotten worlds, that sort of thing."

"That sounds fascinating."

"It's alright. I'm no Van Gogh, but people buy it, so who am I to judge?"

"I would like to see it sometime…I mean, if that's okay."

A smile broke across his face and he nodded enthusiastically.

"I would very much like for you to come see it sometime," he smiled. "I've got a few pieces at the Institute, actually."

"Like, in the museum?" she gaped.

"Yes. They're actually talking about doing a show featuring my work."

"That's so exciting! I can't believe you don't go around bragging to everyone you meet about it!"

Passively he rolled his eyes, brushing away the compliment.

"It would certainly be an interesting way to start conversation, but I try to save it for important occasions."

"Like what?"

"Impressing beautiful shopkeepers, is usually a good one."

Heat rushed to her face and Alice tried futilely to hide it.

"Usually it even earns me a date," he suggested, waggling his eyebrows mischievously.

"It certainly seems to this time," she said, trying to sound flirtacious.

"Well, I'm certainly hoping it will."

"But it did. I'm having dinner with you aren't I?"

"This isn't a proper date!"

"It isn't?"

"Goodness no! A proper date consists of dinner and a movie and flowers, dancing if we're feeling really adventurous!"

"Well, we're having dinner and we could go back to my place and watch a movie. That's a start."

Despite being quite sure she was pushing the envelope of good taste with the offer, Alice couldn't seem to help herself. However, considering the grin John gave her, the invitation seemed to be acceptable.

"We should go see a proper film," he decided. "My treat. I know a place over in Wheaton that plays classics. I think they're playing Casa Blanca, if you're interested."

Shocked, Alice simply nodded, searching for the words to properly accept the invitation. However, all she really managed was, "Yeah, that sounds good."

"We better go catch the train then," he suggested. "I think it leaves soon."

Gathering her senses, she shook her head.

"No need," she insisted. "We can take my car."

Seeing as she was giving him little choice, he agreed.


	3. First Date

Author Note: Thank you everyone for all the follows and the favorites and reviews. It means the world. It honestly keeps me going. I cannot express my gratitude aptly through words, so just know that I am internet hugging every single one of you glorious readers.

Now, I feel the need to explain my character choice with Alice. I purposely made her something of the exact opposite of Jane. Why? Because Loki is the opposite of Thor. They have sort of that Yin and Yang thing going and I wanted their love interests to as well.

Anyway, enjoy. And I beg you to review when you finish. I would appreciate it greatly.

* * *

John was fucking terrified.

Perhaps terrified wasn't quite the right word, but he was seriously fearing for his life.

Never in his life had he ridden with such an aggressive driver. Alice was a maniac behind the wheel, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other resting near the open window, a cigarette between her fingers. Had they been in any other situation, he would have found it a rather beautiful sight. However, between the blaring music and the string of profanities she was shouting at the other drivers, he didn't really have time to notice.

"Do you always find the need to drive like this?" he demanded as they swerved across three lanes of traffic to get to their exit.

"Most of the time," she shrugged, taking a drag off the cigarette, which she had barely touched since lighting it. He had a hunch that it was really there for looks more than anything. "But it's rush hour traffic, you kind of have to be crazy to drive in it in the first place."

"Which is why I suggested the train!"

"Mary-Ann can take it, can't you, old girl?"

Mary-Ann was what she called the supped up '55 white Lincoln convertible that she had, apparently, fixed up herself. It had a v8 engine (whatever that meant), which roared when she pressed the gas, and an overpowering sound system that seemed to only play songs with screaming guitars and stampeding drumbeats. The leather seats were black and cozy, and the backseat was so roomy that it was giving him ideas that he knew he really shouldn't be having, considering they had met mere hours previous. Admittedly, he was quite fond of the car, and its driver for that matter. However, he was not too fond of them as a unit.

"Just because the car can take it, doesn't mean I can!" he objected, but she simply laughed in response.

The sigh of relief was unavoidable as they pulled off the Wheaton exit and the car slowed to a speed that didn't make everything a complete blur. They drove past the college and into downtown, Alice muttering something about her dislike of suburbanites.

"What's wrong with suburbanites?" he asked, finding her distaste amusing.

"Everything," she grumbled. "They are all the same, all the soccer moms and their rich husbands and their 2.5 kids and white picket fences. It's disgusting! They are like this hive-mind of women who believe they need to be a size 2 to be attractive and men who encourage that. They single out those who do something they don't like, pressure them into fitting their norm."

"And you don't, I take it?"

"Do I really look like I want to? Look at me! I've got more curves that a fucking circle, I'm covered in ink, I like music that could be used to torture war prisoners, and when I was a teenager I read comic books instead of Cosmo."

Her passion ignited something in him that he had never felt before. It was an oddly passionate disgust for the people she descrbed. Instinctively, he swallowed the feeling, but it sat in his stomach and burned there until Alice pulled into the theater parking lot.

The engine died, taking the music with it. Slowly he turned to face her, still hearing her words ringing in his ears.

"Look at me," he whispered.

She complied, blue eyes glinting in the glow of the theater lights.

"You are breathtaking," he murmured, brushing a few stray hairs away from her face. "And in the art world, curves are considered far more attractive than those stick-like women. You are a goddess amongst peasants."

The words didn't feel like his own, seeming to come from the same forgotten place that his previous burst of disgusr had. It made her smile, though, which had been the ultimate goal.

"You are seriously the cheesiest," she laughed. "But it's really sweet of you to say that."

A chaste kiss was planted on his cheek before she turned and got out of the car.

For a moment, he sat stunned. Had she really just called him cheesy? And that kiss, though quick and chaste, had been so unexpected. He couldn't help wondering if it actually meant something.

"Come on," she called. "We're going to be late!"

Grinning, he climbed out of the car and followed her to the ticket window.

"What can I get you?" the teen working the window sighed.

"Is Casa Blanca still playing?" Alice asked.

"Nah, we stopped playing it last week," the kid replied. "With Halloween coming up we're mostly playing horror movies."

"Are you playing anything that isn't a horror movie?" John inquired, earning a confused look from Alice, which he pointedly ignored. He wasn't the biggest horror movie fan. Not because he scared easily, but rather because most counted on gore or cheap jump scares to sell an otherwise uninteresting plot. It surprised him that anyone could be genuinely scared, let alone entertained by them.

"I think we're playing Gone With the Wind," the kid offered.

"Which horror movies are you playing?" she asked, trying to hide her smile when he attempted to object.

"Dawn of the Dead, From Dusk til Dawn, and-"

"Nope," interrupted Alice. "Gone With the Wind it is."

Surprised, John turned and looked at her. All she did was shrug in return and nod toward the ticket boy.

"Are you sure?" he whispered. "If you want to see a horror film that's-"

"I've already seen both of those billions of times," she assured him. "Let's go see the most tragic romance of all time. Otherwise my grandma will come back from the dead and murder me for passing up the opportunity."

He wasn't sure if he should laugh about her dead grandmother, but she was, so he offered a hearty smile.

"Well, you heard her," he chuckled, offering the ticket boy his credit card. "Two for Gone With the Wind."

* * *

John was the best possible movie date Alice could have asked for. He didn't laugh at her for grumbling about what a bitch Scarlett was. He even quoted some of her favorite lines as they watched.

When the movie let out, they filed out of the theater behind the few others who had watched it as well.

"You know," she sighed, tossing the mostly empty popcorn bag into the trash. "I really hate that movie."

"What?" he nearly gasped. "It's a work of art, so tragic and honest. And the love story…"

"I know it's great," she nodded. "But I just hate that it ends tragically. She dies cold and alone. The end. While I appreciate its tragedy, I have to admit, I would love it even more if she realized she loved him and he stayed. I know she treated him like dirt…but it's just…"

A frustrated sigh was all she could manage, shaking her head with her loss for words.

"He worked so hard to have her, and he just gives up when he finally gets what he wants?" John offered.

"Yeah," she smiled. "That's exactly it."

"I still enjoy it," he grinned. "And if you don't like it then-" He grabbed her waist and pulled her close. "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

Peels of laughter rippled through her and she nearly fell over before he let go of her, though his arm managed to find its way around her shoulders.

"You had almost stopped being cheesy," she teased. "And then you did that."

"It's part of my charm, dearest."

"I'm sure it is."

Smirking, she looked up at him. He was a good head taller than her; she felt the need to stand on her tiptoes whenever she wanted to look him in the eye. Returning the expression, he finally disentangled her from his grasp. Gracefully, he opened the car door for her, ushering her inside with a light hand at the small of her back.

"So," she sighed as he climbed into the passenger seat. "I should probably take you home now, right?"

"My, you are rushing things," he smirked.

"I meant drop you off at your house!"

Though she tried to play it off, she could feel a blush coloring her cheeks.

"Oh dear, now you're blushing!" he gasped in mock surprise, making her turn an even more violent shade of red.

"You turned my words all around!" she grumbled, trying to hide her face in her hands.

"No, no, don't hide," he laughed. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not!"

"You're right, I'm not."

"So do you want me to take you back to your house?"

Though still smirking, he shook his head.

"I don't want you to have to drive back downtown. I can get a taxi from wherever you're going."

"I have to go back downtown anyway. I live above the shop."

He laughed, and initially she thought he was laughing at her for living above the record store, which made her angry. It must have shown on her face because he shook his head as the mirthful noise died.

"No, it's not you. It's…" He took a breath allowing the last of the laughter to fade from his face. "I live literally three blocks from the shop. I can walk home. It's fine."

It dawned on Alice that she knew exactly where he lived and it also made her realize that he was way out of her league. The closest apartments to the shop were the Waterfront Apartments. They overlooked the shores of Lake Michigan, and were insanely expensive to live in.

"What's that look for?" he scoffed. "We've had a wonderful night so far!"

"I know we have," she grumbled, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut. "I'm just bothered that a smooth talking rich artist managed to drag me on a date, dazzle me with his ridiculously charming smile, and still made me pay for gas."

"I'll make it worth your time," he chuckled, returning his arm to its perch around her shoulders.

"Are you sure?" she teased, trying not to look too insecure, and for once she seemed to pull it off.

"Positive," he promised.

* * *

When they arrived downtown, Alice pulled down the alley beside the shop and into the hidden garage. The ride had been relatively silent and Alice was afraid that she had blown her chance with John by admitting his money intimidated her. Dating rich guys wasn't exactly her style.

"It's not that it bothers me that you have money," she had explained as they weaved through the lanes of traffic. "I just…I'm not classy."

"I know," he nodded quietly, ignoring the indignant look she gave him. "And I don't expect you to be. That's why I like you, Alice; you're not like other girls. You don't hold airs, you don't pretend to be something you're not. You are honest, and that is so hard to come by."

The sentiment had made her heart flutter, but she still felt a pang of regret for even admitting how unsettled she had been. Class had never before intimidated her. However, John was also the first man to ever show interest in her who didn't work in fast food. She had just assumed that anyone who lived in luxury was an asshole. Apparently, she had been wrong, at least in this case.

"You can stop over analyzing things now."

As she climbed out of the car, it took a moment for her to realize that he was the one that had said it and she hadn't just been ridiculing herself.

"What?" she asked, her brain feeling hazy as she attempted to come back from her thoughts.

His door shut and he leaned on the top of the car, eyes boring into her.

"You've been quiet the whole ride home," he sighed. "Please tell me you're not still overanalyzing things."

"I'm not," she lied, but he saw right through her.

"Alice," he groaned, standing straight and running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You can't let something so trivial bother you."

"What's bothering me is the thought of completely blowing my chances with you because I'm an irrational bitch sometimes," she countered.

Mentally she cursed herself. Why was it so difficult for her to play cool around him? Usually she had no problem putting on a good face, no matter the situation. But with him it was different. He read her so easily that she had no option but to wear her heart on her sleeve. Quite frankly, it terrified her.

And yet, he simply chuckled at her response, his face erupting in that charming smile of his. Slowly he wandered around the car, hands shoved in his pockets.

"You are so fantastically honest," he mused. "And you have no reason to worry, I had fun. We will have to do this again soon."

"I would like that very much," she honestly replied.

"Good! How about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's no good. I have to close the store by myself. How about Friday?"

"Friday it is!"

His long arms pulled her to him and she was wrapped in his embrace. It was odd how natural it felt, how easily she just melted into his grasp. The scent of him intoxicated her. There was no cologne, just a satisfyingly clean smell with the slightest hint of paint.

"Well," he decided, leaning back slightly to look her in the eye. "I should probably get home. I have to finish a piece for a coffee shop on Canal by tomorrow."

"I could have brought you home earlier if you had told me!"

"No, this was completely worth it. Thank you, Alice McCormick, for an almost perfect evening."

"Why just almost perfect?"

"Because I haven't done this yet."

In one quick movement he cradled the back of her neck with one hand and pressed his lips against hers. Alice's heartbeat sped up, her hands finding their way into his black hair. Smirking against her lips, he pulled back with a content sigh.

"Now it's perfect," he nodded. "Goodnight, Alice."

"Goodnight," she breathed, heart still racing as she watched him turn and walk down the alley toward the main road.

As he disappeared around the corner, closed the garage door and headed up the stairs to her apartment.

"Yeah," she grinned to herself as she unlocked the door. "Absolutely perfect."

* * *

All of Asgard knew Thor was a wreck. Ever since the banishment of his brother, he had lost his desire to do much of anything. Not even a good brawl could bring him to good spirits. Yes, he tried to smile and laugh with his friends, the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif, but he had no heart left, no passion. He was only a shell of the man he once was.

On a particularly bad day, the Warriors and Sif came to him in his chambers. He wasn't much for leaving them on days like this; content to stay in the dark, waiting for sleep to take him again.

"Thor, my friend," called Volstagg, poking his head around the door. "Thor, would you like to join us in the dining hall? They're preparing roast duck for supper."

"No, Volstagg," Thor groaned, trying to shield his eyes from the light pouring in from the door. "I am not feeling up to feasting today."

"But, dear friend," objected Fandral. "You've been locked in your chambers all day!"

"I told you I am not up for feasting today!" Thor reiterated forcefully.

"This isn't about your appetite, Thor!" Sif protested, pushing the men out of the way as she stormed through the door. "You haven't been yourself for nearly a year. I know you mourn for your brother, but there comes a point where you must move on!"

"How dare you speak to me like that?" Thor roared, getting to his feet and stalking over to where his friends stood. "My brother is lost to me forever. Though I know he lives, I can never see him. I miss him terribly."

"I implore you to listen to reason," Sif fumed. "Your brother committed unspeakable acts. The All-Father punished him as was fitting for his crimes."

"But at what cost? The cost of tearing our family, the Royal Family of Asgard apart; and causing me such intense grief that I cannot sleep. I am up at all hours, feeling my brother's spirit cry out to me, pleading with me to save him from his horrible exile."

"How do you know your brother is unhappy on Midgard?" Hogun challenged. "This is something you cannot be certain of."

"I cannot imagine Loki happy on Midgard unless he was ruling it," Volstagg chuckled.

Sif glared at him and he realized that it may not have been the most helpful thing to say.

"Regardless," Sif pointedly said. "You cannot save your brother from his fate."

"But I just want to know that he is safe," Thor sighed. "I just want to know he is happy. All of the things that make me happy are on Earth. Jane is there, my friends the Avengers, and my brother all reside on Earth."

"Then go to Earth!" Sif suggested, doubting very much that Thor could do so. "Go to Earth and see that he is safe. Be with your friends and your lover."

This seemed to brighten the god's mood notably. His blue eyes glinted with hope at the thought of seeing his Earth friends again.

"Do you think that would be possible?" he implored.

"Ask Heimdall," the female warrior shrugged, feeling confident the gatekeeper would never let him pass, though she hoped that getting him out of his chambers would help improve his mood.

"I shall!" Thor decided. "I shall go now and speak with Heimdall."

Sif nodded, confident that the journey would prove pointless. The great gatekeeper would never let Thor pass to find his infernal brother. However, she could see the thrill of adventure beginning to bring back his good spirit already.

Not even once did it cross her mind that the plan might actually go according to Thor's plan as they crossed the newly repaired bifrost. That is, until they were standing near Heimdall, watching Thor prepare to make his descent to Earth.

"Are you positive this is your will, Thor Odinson?" Heimdall asked, his voice like a gurgling stream.

"I am positive, good Heimdall," Thor once again reiterated. "I want nothing more than to visit my friends on Midgard, especially Jane."

It angered Sif that he had pointedly left his brother out of his pleas to Heimdall, though she felt the gatekeeper knew of his hidden scheme and was simply overlooking it.

"Then return to Earth, Thor Odinson," Heimdall said. "Farewell."

And in a flash of light, Thor Odinson was gone from Asgard, making the long descent to Earth.


	4. Friday I'm In Love

**Author Note**: Thank you all for the reviews, the follows, and the favorites. You are all fantastic for reading this. I am glad you are all enjoying it! Please keep the reviews coming.

This chapter is rather long, and dedicated to my fantastic new friend Sally. Thank you so much for your help, dear. You are fantastic.

* * *

When Alice opened the shop on that cloudy Friday morning, she found a note taped to the front door.

_I'll see you at 8_, it read. _Please wear something nice. –John_

"Something nice?" she repeated aloud, allowing the front door to swing shut behind her. "What an ass."

The note made her curious though. Where was he bringing her that required her to look nice? And, more importantly, did she actually own a dress?

Trying to put the night that lay ahead out of her mind, she concentrated on work. Unfortunately, it was a relatively slow day due to the rain that was beginning to fall. Despite having an order to check in and put away, she had most of her work done nearly two hours earlier than she intended.

Around 2, Heather, her assistant manager showed up, drenched from head to toe.

"I hate Chicago," she muttered as she shook the rain from her coat. "I swear, if it's not raining it's windy or snowing. We never get good weather."

"And then when we do get good weather, you complain because you're here," Alice teased.

"It's not my fault that you only schedule me on nice days," grumped Heather, making Alice laugh.

Alice liked Heather, she was a hard worker and really cool. She liked good music and enjoyed working in a record store, just as Alice did. For both of them, the store was more of a second him than an actual job. And that was exactly why Heather was Assistant Manager.

Well, that and she was Alice's best friend. The two of them had known each other since high school. Heather was the only person at the shop who had been working there almost as long as Alice.

"So, anything exciting happen lately?" Heather asked, setting her purse and keys behind the counter. "I haven't seen you since Monday."

For a moment Alice debated telling her about John, knowing full well that it was ridiculous to be so excited about a man she had only just met.

"Not much," she replied finally. "Just the usual."

"That took you way too long," the other girl observed. "You aren't telling me something."

Blushing, Alice shook her head, but by this time Heather had a smug grin consuming her face. There was no choice but to tell her.

"Well," Alice said hesitantly, looking at her feet. "I may have met a guy."

The sound Heather made was almost inhuman. She nearly dropped the coffee she was sipping, but managed to set it on the counter before throwing victory fists into the air.

"It's about damn time!" she screeched, making Alice glad there was no one else in the store. "What's his name? Is he cute? How did you-?"

Alice cut her off with a wave of the hand.

"Calm down," she laughed. "It's nothing too exciting. His name is John. He's an artist, apparently a pretty good one. He came in to buy a Gaslight record the other day and we ended up going to dinner and a movie."

"What?" Heather practically shrieked. "You went to dinner AND a movie?"

"We went to see Gone With the Wind at the Wheaton theater."

"Did you take Mary-Ann?"

It made Alice laugh that Heather referred to her car by name. All of Alice's friends had met the infamous old white Lincoln at some point. The car was practically a legend around the record store. One of the local bands had even used a picture of it as a cover for their EP.

"Yes, we took Mary-Ann," Alice laughed. "And she seemed to like him too."

"So she didn't break down on the highway this time?"

This had only happened once. Alice had gone out with a real scumbag that used to come into the store often They had taken Alice's car and the car had broken down before they even reached the restaurant they were heading to. Everyone said it was fate and the car hated him. Alice hadn't argued with the car's decision and had broken it off with him right there on the side of the road.

"Not this time," Alice mused. "I think my driving may have frightened him though."

"Your driving scares me!" Heather pointed out. "The fact that he rode with you and still is into you says something right there! When are you going to see him again?"

"Tonight, actually."

Heather made a sound like she might combust.

"Tonight?" she exclaimed. "Where are you going? What are you doing? When is he picking you up?"

"Calm down!" Alice insisted. "I have no idea where we're going or what we're doing. I literally came into the shop today to find a note taped to the front door telling me that he was going to meet me at 8 and to dress nice."

"Oh my god, that's so cute!"

"Heather, focus!"

"Sorry! Do you own anything nice?"

Alice sighed, shaking her head.

"I honestly don't know," she admitted.

Rolling her eyes, Heather pointed toward the upstairs apartment.

"You go up there and scour your closet," she instructed. "When you find a few nice things, you bring them down here and show me."

Grumbling about her distaste for girly things, Alice hiked upstairs to dig something nice out of the far reaches of her closet.

* * *

It took hours for Alice to finally look presentable for her date. Heather had been a drill sergeant when it came to making sure she looked nice. They had spent nearly an hour putting together her outfit, another two hours on her hair and make-up, and by the time 8 o' clock rolled around, Alice was feeling more like a doll than an actual human. That is, with the exception of her exposed arms, which were covered in decidedly un-doll like tattoos. It was the first time in a long time she had felt completely self-conscious of them. She hoped beyond hope that John would like them, or at the very least overlook them.

Despite Heather's protest, Alice had insisted she not meet John until after this first official date. The grumpy assistant manager had been exiled to the back room to work on inventory for the time being. Every once in a while Alice would hear the very loud moving of boxes, which she knew was Heather purposely drawing attention to herself.

John arrived right on time, dressed to the nines. It was still raining and his dark hair was slightly matted to his face. His shook it away and it took effort for Alice to keep herself from swooning. He looked absolutely stunning in his three-piece suit, the long overcoat brushing slightly past his knees, and a black and white checked scarf draped around his neck.

"It is disgusting out there!" he sighed, brushing rain from his jacket.. "I think we may have to change our plans, and-"

Suddenly he stopped short when his gaze finally fell on Alice fully. His eyes went wide and he smiled, standing up straight.

"Well," he smirked. "I must say, you look absolutely beautiful, darling."

Blushing, Alice shrugged.

"It's the best I could do on short notice," she mumbled, staring shyly at her feet.

"If this is what short notice looks like, I would love to see what you could do with more time to plan," he chuckled. "You would kill me with your stunning good looks."

"I seriously doubt it."

"Have you looked at yourself, dear? That dress hugs you just right and accentuates those luscious curves of yours. You look like hell in high heels."

"If by 'hell' you mean mass chaos caused by tripping over my own feet…especially in this weather…you're probably right."

Shaking his head at her, he sighed and took a few steps forward.

"I said you look beautiful," he repeated pointedly.

Her will to protest disappeared and she decided that smiling and thanking him was probably the best approach.

"That a girl," he approvingly smiled. "Not, I think we're going to have to rethink our plans for the night. I was going to take you to see Shakespeare in the park. However, with this rain, I have doubts they'll be performing."

"Do you have anything else in mind?" Alice asked, losing her will to go out in the rain by the second.

A clap of thunder sounded across the dark sky and she gave the door a wary look.

"You don't seem too keen on going out in this weather," he observed, reading her just as easily as he had the day they met. "What would you like to do instead?"

"We could stay in and order pizza," she suggested with a shrug. "I mean, I know that sounds a little boring, but it's better than going out in a thunderstorm."

Though he looked a bit disappointed, he nodded.

"Sure," he decided. "That sounds fantastic."

"Are you sure? I mean, we can go out, but it's downpouring out there. I am pretty fond of staying dry."

"I agree whole heartedly, darling."

A broad smile took her face and she took his hand.

"Good," she giggled. "Then let's go upstairs. The pizza place down the street has some great deep-dish. We could get delivery and decide what to do from there. Maybe the storm will let up by then."

"I am up for anything," he agreed. "Just lead the way."

Taking his hand, she led him through the back room, nodding toward Heather, who was too busy purposely ignoring them to notice.

"Now, I feel obligated to warn you that it is a little cluttered," she sighed. "It's not super big, and-"

"I am sure it is fine," he assured her. "No need to make excuses."

Alice bit her lip, trying to contain her anxiety. It wasn't often people came up to the apartment; especially not attractive artist guys that seemed really into her. In her opinion, the apartment was cozy, with its open layout and mismatched furniture. It had been home to her since she graduated high school. Her father had helped her renovate the place that summer and she had moved in as soon as it was finished.

The door creaked as she pushed it open, exposing the large main room. The first thing she noticed was the stack of books next to the couch and she mentally cursed herself for not putting them away. However, John completely overlooked them, entering her home with a look of awe on his face.

"It's so…you," he grinned, and she knew it was a compliment.

She let him wander around, rather than giving him a tour. There was too much to properly explain all her decorating decisions. The walls were covered in posters and artwork, making the plum colored walls almost invisible beneath. A couch and chair were against the far wall, facing a small television, which sat atop a travel trunk. Against the left wall stood her record player cabinet and a bookshelf next to it, which was completely filled with albums. That seemed to be his first target.

"Have you listened to all of them?" he asked as his fingers feathered over the shelves.

"Every single one of them," she honestly replied.

"Incredible."

The kitchen was next, though he didn't spend too much time. He commented on how much he enjoyed the openness of the rooms; and the simplicity of the kitchen being defined by a simple counter that horseshoed around the small space. When his eyes fell upon where the dining room table should have been, his jaw almost literally dropped. Instead of a table, there was a grand piano. It was a little scuffed and old looking, but he assumed it still played well because the top was propped open and the keyboard exposed.

"Do you play?" he inquired, almost hesitant to touch the ivory keys.

A stab of guilt hit her in the chest. At one point, that piano had been the key to her future. But that was a long time ago.

Shaking away the thoughts about what could have been, she nodded.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I'm not too bad."

"Will you play for me?"

"Not right now."

"Later tonight?"

"Maybe if you're really lucky."

Winking at him, she motioned for him to follow her down the hall, somewhat desperate to get him away from the piano.

"The bathroom is down this way," she explained. "And my bedroom is there at the end."

"What's the other door?" he prompted, not waiting for an answer before twisting the knob.

"That's the library," she told him, but he was already inside.

"Your book collection rivals your records!" he enthusiastically gushed. "This is fantastic!"

In actuality, the library was not as impressive as he made it sound. There were three bookshelves that were all mostly populated, and a little desk that she did the paperwork for the shop at.

However, he was fascinated. He took a few minutes to search the titles, commenting on how much he enjoyed some of them.

"I can't believe you have an entire book on Norse Mythology!" he laughed. "And it's right next to Harry Potter!"

"I happen to like mythology," she grumped defiantly.

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with that! I happen to like Greek myths a lot. The story of Icarus is still my favorite. Both completely inspiring and completely heartbreaking."

"And that's why people shouldn't fly into the sun."

Rolling his eyes, he went back to looking through her books.

"So, what about that pizza?" he asked, taking one of the older titles off the shelf.

"We could share one, if you don't mind," she suggested. "The meat lovers pizza is delicious, and they put feta in it!"

"That sounds delicious," he nodded, not fully paying attention. "Do whatever you want."

Leaving him to look through her collection, she went to call the pizza place.

When he finally emerged from the library, the pizza was ordered and she was plugging the Nintendo 64 into the TV.

"What are you doing?" he asked, leaning against the wall and watching her battle the cables.

"I figured we could play Mario while we wait for the pizza," she explained with a shrug. "Everybody loves Mario Cart."

"I can't say I've ever played," he admitted.

"Well, we'll soon change that."

* * *

A pizza, six races, and a bottle of wine later, they were laying on the couch, The Cure spinning on the turntable, and Alice's head on his chest. What had started out a fun game, had quickly turned sour when John realized Alice was far better at videogames than he. She had come in first nearly every race, while he generally came in last. It was frustrating for h5im, and she finally settled listening to music to keep him from throwing the controller again.

On the floor next to the couch lie his suit jacket and overcoat, his tie now hung loosely around his neck, the sleeves of his button up rolled up exposing his forearms. Alice was still in her dress, though her hair had been let down and was now hanging in loose waves around her shoulders.

"So," he mumbled, twisting a lock of her hair lazily between his fingers. "How did you end up here? With the shop and all that?"

"It's my dad's," she shrugged. "He let me run it when I was in high school. I just never left."

"Why not?"

For the slightest of moments he felt her tense, the question seeming to put her more than slightly on edge.

"I didn't want to," she answered honestly. "This place is so familiar. It's my life. Everything I love is in this shop."

"But surely you had dreams for the future."

Again she tensed, this time more noticeably.

"I did," she sighed. "But they weren't important. My sister needed to go to school more than I did. Only one of us could go because dad is dirt poor, so I wanted her to go. She's studying to be a doctor. I just wanted to go to music school."

"For piano?"

"Yeah. I was going to become a performer."

There was so much regret in her voice that it pained him. He could tell from the way she spoke that she had really wanted to follow her dream, but care for her younger sibling had stopped her. Holding her a little closer, he kissed the top of her head.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be," she snorted. "It was my choice. Besides, I really do love the store. I get to talk about music all day, pick out the best albums, hang out with the tattoo artists from next door, and meet charming artists who bring me to dinner and the movies and then get drunk with me on my couch."

"That happens often, does it?"

"Just this time."

An inked arm reached back and ruffled his dark curls. Almost on instinct, he took hold of it to examine the work. It was an excellent piece, from what he could see. There was a giant sea monster reaching up from the depths toward what appeared to be a pirate ship.

"Do you want to see it?" she asked, sitting up and taking her arm back momentarily to adjust her dress. "It's got the Loch Ness monster over here, and then that guy is the Kraken."

She extended her arm and showed him the full scene. The night sky loomed over a calm sea, where a single pirate ship with black sails drifted. Below the water, all kinds of fish and plants dwelled, though none of them looked to be based on actual fish, but rather the monsters of legends.

"May I see the other?" he smirked, knowing she would comply.

The left arm was covered in something very different. This time, the sky was pink and purple, the sun appearing to be rising from her shoulder, casting light over a city, which appeared to be Chicago. He could see Navy Pier and the Sears tower, various other uniquely shaped towers, and the train snaking past them. In the midst of the urban sprawl, there were people, though not the average Joe. By the look of them, they were characters from movies. He picked out Master Chief from the videogame Halo, along with Mario and Luigi, a few horror movie villains, and a few famous musicians, like Freddie Mercury and Elvis. They all appeared to be fighting each other, which he found incredibly amusing.

"These are fantastic," he chuckled.

"You haven't even seen my back yet," she smirked, motioning at him to unzip the back of her dress.

He complied, exposing pale skin, a large section of which was covered in stars and nebulas. The Milky Way galaxy spiraled out from between her shoulder blades, scattering colorful spec meant to be planets across both shoulders.

"You are a walking gallery, my dear," he breathed. "It's such beautiful art. It suits you well."

When she glanced over her shoulder at him, he could see she was blushing brightly. Almost on instinct, he reached out and cradled the back of her neck with his hand, bringing her lips to his.

A light sigh escaped her lips and she turned to straddle him, taking him by pleasant surprise. Gripping her hair, he swept his tongue across her lower lip. Taking the hint, her lips parted, allowing him delve deeper, his mouth devouring hers. Her teeth tugged at his lower lip and he couldn't keep himself from moaning.

Feeling daring, he began exploring her neck and jaw, nipping at her flushed skin and running his tongue over the small red marks that were left behind. Her pleasured moans were turning him on like crazy, as was the way she arched at his touch. Fingers once entangled in hair moved to grip hips, and she pressed herself against his length.

His heart was pounding in his chest as his lips found hers again and he ran his hands down her thighs before beginning to urge her skirt upward.

Suddenly she tensed, as if only just realizing where this was leading.

"Wait," she insisted, pushing away from him.

Automatically he stilled, despite feeling as though he may explode from desire.

"What's wrong?" he asked as she slid off his lap.

"I can't do this right now," she sighed, turning a violent shade of red from embarrassment.

Disappointment flooded him, though he tried not to let it show. He didn't want to make her feel pressured to fuck him, though he wanted nothing more than to bend her over the couch and take her right there.

"Oh," he whispered. "That's…okay."

"I'm sorry!" she apologized. "I just…I don't…I don't want to seem easy."

He couldn't help laughing, despite the glare she threw in his direction.

"Don't laugh!" she insisted hotly. "I never sleep with a guy this early on in the relationship. It's nothing against you."

"I should hope it's nothing against me," he smiled, feeling a little guilty about trying to move so fast. "I apologize for trying to be so forward. I just thought…"

"I do want to fuck you," she blurted out, turning crimson. "I just…I can't right now."

"That's fine, sweetheart," he assured her. "No pressure."

"I just don't want you to think-"

"I don't think anything, I promise. I'm not judging. Just tell me, how long has it been?"

"Since what?"

"Since you were properly fucked."

She thought for a moment, which he knew to mean it had either been very recent or very long ago.

"Almost a year," she answered finally, looking rather proud of the fact.

"My goodness!" he exclaimed, which made her smile despite herself. "You are most certainly not easy."

"Damn straight! When's the last time you got laid?"

To his relief, she seemed comfortable again.

However, it took him a moment to answer the question. This was the problem with amnesia, he honestly didn't remember the last time he had sex. For that matter, he didn't know if he ever had been. He assumed he had been, he felt like he had been, but he honestly didn't know.

"I don't remember," he said honestly.

"Then you can't say shit!" she scolded, slapping his arm playfully. "At least I know who the last person to take this ride was."

"Well you could be the first person to take this ride, but you're too busy playing hard to get."

"I will be the first person to take that ride, but I'm going to play hard to get for as long as I damn well please!"

It felt as though his heart skipped a beat.

"Promise?" he smirked.

"If you're lucky," she replied, returning the smirk.

"I tend to be."

She kissed him, though more chastely this time.

"Then I look forward to it," she said breathily.

"Oh, I'm going to absolutely ravish you," he promised passionately, eyes boring into hers. "I'm going to have you a million different ways and ruin other men to you completely."

The shiver that coursed through her was almost visible. It made him hungry for her, though he did his best to repress it.

"That sounds fantastic," she whispered, kissing him again, more passionately this time.

"So what do you want to do now?" he asked, resting his forehead against hers.

"We could watch a movie," she suggested.

"That sounds good," he nodded. "What do you want to watch?"

"Have you ever seen Music and Lyrics?" she asked, getting off the couch and digging through her collection of DVDs.

"I've never even heard of it."

"It's adorable. It's a romantic comedy about this singer that needs a lyricist…can we please watch it?"

Rolling his eyes, he gave in.

"Fine, we can watch your chick flick," he agreed.

"I was going to make you watch it either way."

"I figured as much."

* * *

At some point during the movie, Alice drifted off, leaving John to lie there, listening to her quiet breathing. He had rather enjoyed the movie, though he would never admit it to her for fear of her questioning his masculinity. As the credits rolled, he carefully stood, doing his best not to disturb her slumber, and crossed to turn off the television.

Gathering his coats and scarf, he began to get ready to leave.

"What are you doing?" mumbled a quiet voice from the couch.

"I'm going home," he replied. "It's late and you're obviously tired."

"Why don't you stay?" she suggested with a yawn.

"I didn't think-"

"It's fine. I don't you walking home. It's probably still raining and it's late. I'll move to my bed and you can take the couch. Or, if you're feeling really daring, you could join me."

"I can sleep on the couch," he shrugged, not wanting to let on how badly he wanted to sleep next to her.

"Okay," she smiled, slipping off the couch. "I'm going to get to bed."

Giving him a quick kiss, she disappeared down the hall to the bedroom. When the door was closed, he stripped down to his boxers and undershirt and made himself comfortable on the couch, covering up with the quilt that was draped over the back of it.

The quilt smelled strongly of her and it soothed him. Her scent was intoxicating and sleeping so close to it made him feel content.

He heard the door to her room creak and glanced down the hall. She stood silhouetted in the doorway, looking rather confused.

"Are you sure you don't want to sleep in here?" she asked, this time sounding disappointed.

Not needing to be asked twice, he got up and followed her into the bedroom.


	5. Closer

**Author Note:** I'm so glad the last chapter got such good feedback. I was a little nervous throwing in something mildly smutty so early into the story. But, seriously, who could resist a hot and heavy make-out session with Loki? And we're continuing with the smut this chapter...so...

Warning: This chapter contains sex! (This is rated M for a reason…)

Enjoy! And please read and review. It means the world to me.

* * *

"So when are you going come see my art?" John asked, leaning against the checkout counter, examining an expensive Mars Volta record that had just come in.

It had been almost a month since the first night he had stayed at Alice's apartment and it was becoming something of a habit for him. At least once a week, he woke up on her couch, or, better yet, cuddled up next to her. And yet, he still couldn't convince her to come over and see his art. He had the suspicion that she was a little intimidated by his apartment building, though she would never admit it.

This bothered him a bit. He had spent almost every day with her since their first meeting. Many late nights had been spent at her apartment, pouring his heart out to her, telling her about his life before he met her. He told her about his month in the hospital, about the doctors that had tried to help him regain his memory, about Trudy, the little old lady who had taken him in for six months and inspired him to paint, and how she had given him the money to move to Chicago after his career really started to take off. He told her about his dreams, about the magical land full of warriors and gods and the purple sky.

And yet, after all of that, she still avoided going over to his apartment like the plague. Though he cared for her deeply, it was really starting to annoy him.

"I don't know," she shrugged, plucking the record from his hands. "Maybe tomorrow?"

"You always say that," he persisted. "Why not tonight?"

"Because…"

"Because she always has an excuse," Heather muttered as she brushed past John to get behind the counter.

John liked Heather. She was a great friend to Alice and she was honest. The moment they first met, he knew Heather was Alice's kind of girl. Her honesty knew no bounds and she was very proud of that fact. Also, she and Alice had this strange sister-like bond that he couldn't quite wrap his head around. They finished each other's sentences and hung on each other like a couple. Alice referred to Heather as her "other half". Sometimes it felt like Heather was more of a boyfriend to Alice than he was.

"I know she does," he grumped.

"Can you please not talk about me like I'm not here?" Alice hissed.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he sighed. "But it's true. You always have an excuse not to see my work."

"I saw the piece in the coffee shop," she volunteered defensively.

"Yes because I dragged you there. And it wasn't even my usual work. It was commissioned."

"Just stop making excuses and go to his house, Al," Heather scolded.

"It's no pressure," John lied. "I just want you to see my art."

It was as if he could see Alice's conviction waver. Frowning, she sighed.

"I'll come over after work," she decided.

Trying not to seem too smug, he simply smiled and thanked her.

"I'll see you around 8," she begrudgingly promised.

"I look forward to it," he smirked, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "But now I have to go do some work of my own."

Despite the fact he could practically feel Alice glaring at him as he left, he was incredibly excited to have her finally come over.

It was an unusually sunny day for Chicago and if it weren't for the giant backlog of work he had to do, it would have been the perfect day for a walk. As it was, he had two commissions to complete before noon the following day.

Though he wouldn't have traded his time with Alice for the world, since meeting her, he really hadn't concentrated on his work. The only chance he really had to paint happened on the rare nights he didn't spend at her apartment.

As it was, he currently had about 8 hours before the shop closed, which gave him plenty of time to work. The coffee shop that had purchased some of his previous work was looking for something to display at their annual "birthday bash" and the art institute wanted to display some of his work in their gallery, which was a huge honor. He was supposed to submit a portfolio of samples they could use, and he had yet to really do anything for it.

And on top of all of that, Alice had offered to pay him to do something for her to put in the shop. Though he had assured her he would do it for free, he still had no idea what to paint, let alone when he would have time to do it.

The workload felt mildly overwhelming as he entered the mostly immaculate apartment. He wasn't really very messy to begin with, but hardly ever being home really helped in keeping the place spotless.

Leaving his keys on the counter, he went to the bedroom to change into some painting clothes. An oversized blue button up and pair of khaki shorts were already covered in acrylic, so he threw them on and retreated to his art room.

A sigh of relief escaped him when he entered well-lit spare bedroom in which he did all of his work. Despite the clutter of art supplies, it was a spacious room, which he found helped his creative flow.

The skeleton of the painting he had started for the coffee shop was sitting on the first easel, the color palette the owner of the shop had picked next to it.

"This is going to clash so badly with the one I did last month," he grumbled, and decided to ignore the piece for the time being.

Next in line was a mostly finished piece that was meant for his collection. It was one of his dreamscapes. A violently colorful bridge that appeared to be made out of rainbow reached across a vast sea, ending in a cascading waterfall. It seemed so familiar to him, as his dreams always did, and it caused a longing tug in his gut as he stared at it.

"I think I'll finish you," he decided.

After gathering paint and a few different brushes, he pulled up a stool and set to work.

Hours passed, the final touches on the rainbow bridge long since finished. He had moved on to a new piece, one that had sprang to mind shortly after finishing the previous. It was the purple sky that overlooked his dreamland. But this time it was filled with odd planets and nebulas, and all of them looked angry in their majesty. They were darker than it seemed they should have been and rimmed with a fiery glow, glaring down on the little land that he had created.

And in the middle of it all, a black hole pulsed, threatening to draw in everything around it. For some reason, it hurt him to look at it, the emptiness of the black hole making him unexplainably sad. In the midst of that sadness there was also anger, a fury that forced him to concentrate on this piece and only this. It felt as if the black hole would suck him in forever if he didn't finish what he started.

He lost himself in that painting and would have stayed in front of the easel all night if it hadn't been for buzz of the doorbell.

Suddenly realizing that Alice had finally arrived, he quickly wiped some of the paint off his hands onto his shirt, sprinting down the hall to unlock the door.

"Sorry," he sighed as he let her into the apartment a moment later. "I was…distracted."

Smirking, Alice took in the sight of him in his work clothes.

"I can see that," she chuckled. "Forget I was coming?"

"More like lost track of time," he shrugged. "Are you hungry?"

"A bit. Don't you want to show me your work first?"

His stomach gave an angry rumble as he realized he hadn't eaten anything all day.

"It can wait," he insisted. "We should make dinner. I'm starving."

* * *

John's apartment was huge. He had given her a quick tour while they waited for dinner to cook and Alice was absolutely stunned. It had the same number of rooms that hers did, but each room seemed ten times bigger. The kitchen was huge, boasting granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances. Everything seemed shiny and new, like he had barely used it in the half year he had lived there. A gas log fireplace was in the living room, giving off a cozy feel. Alice imagined that once winter rolled around, they would spend many a night in front of that fireplace.

"This is fantastic," Alice gushed as she peaked into the bedroom at the massive bed. "And you just lived here alone all this time?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "I spend most of my time in the art room anyway."

"Can I see it?"

"After dinner."

Rolling her eyes, Alice resigned herself to waiting.

As they passed through the living room, she noticed a few pieces of art that she assumed were his. They depicted a beautiful castle, which seemed to be made of gold. It was glittering in the light of a bright sun, which was surrounded by planets. It was beautiful and unlike anything she had ever seen. When she asked him about them, he simply smirked.

"You'll see soon enough, darling," he continued to assure her. It was annoying her to no end.

Soon she was distracted by dinner, John having cooked some fantastic spaghetti. For as much as he loved take-out, the man seemed to have a natural gift in the kitchen. Though she was incredibly humbled by how beautiful his home was; it wasn't quite as intimidating as she had feared it would be. Nothing in the apartment was too fancy or expensive looking (other than the apartment itself), and it had a certain comfortable air that she greatly enjoyed.

"So this isn't the only time you're coming over?" he asked, enjoying the annoyed look she gave him.

"It depends on how good your paintings are," she teased. "If they suck I'll have to stay away out of respect for my artistic eye."

"I like to think you'll find them quite pleasing to your…artistic eye," he winked.

"I'll be the judge of that," she said, getting to her feet. "If you keep avoiding showing me, I'm just going to assume it doesn't exist."

Laughing, he gave in.

"Fine," he sighed, also standing. "We can start in here. That one is mine."

It was the one that Alice had previously assumed he'd done. The big castle under the foreign stars, just as he had described when telling her about his dreams. Part of her couldn't believe that it was his work, not because she doubted his talent, but because she couldn't believe someone so talented had taken interest in her.

"It's beautiful," she praised, going over to examine it more closely.

"I know," he agreed, though it didn't sound like he was trying to be egotistical. It was almost as if he himself couldn't believe that he had done it.

"Are there more like this?" she inquired, her fingers ghosting over the outline of the castle.

"Oh yes," he replied. "Follow me."

Taking her hand, he led her to the spare room. A small gasp escaped her as he opened the door and she caught her first glance at the room. It was huge for a spare room, the walls a dazzling white, tinted pink by the sunset that was streaming in the bay window. At least six easels stood about the room, some of them housing blank canvases, others proudly displaying finished pieces.

The walls were also lined with paintings, most of them finished. Near the window stood a long desk, on which there was an impressive collection of acrylics.

"Wow," she breathed as she attempted to process what she was seeing. "Holy shit, John. This is amazing!"

"It's not that great," he shrugged, but she was having none of it.

"The rainbow bridge is so fantastic!" she insisted, pointing at the one he had finished earlier. "It reminds me of the bifrost."

The word struck a chord with him, seeming familiar, though he knew not why.

"The what?" he inquired.

"Norse mythology," she shrugged. "It was a bridge that connected the realms. Not important."

She moved about the room, excitedly chattering about her favorite pieces.

"This is beautiful!" she gushed. "This one with the black hole is absolutely devastating to look at. You can see all the happiness and color around the void being sucked in. It's like this big soulless monster…"

A shaky breath escaped him, making her glance in his direction. He looked absolutely devastated as he stared at the painting, as if the black hole was sucking him in too.

"John?" she whispered, putting a hand on his cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded, looking away from the painting. "Just…I'm glad you like it."

There was still a distance in his eyes, warranting a quick kiss to bring him back to reality. Smiling, he looked her squarely in the eyes, laughing as he gave her a quick kiss in return.

"You really like it, don't you?" he grinned.

"It's fantastic!" she assured him emphatically.

Smirking, he pulled her closer and kissed her fiercely. A little thrill coursed through her and she returned the kiss passionately. His fingers gripped her hair, the pressure of his kiss forcing her against the wall. The weight of his body pressed against her and she allowed him to dominate her as his lips ravaged hers.

Playfully, she nipped at his lower lip and he groaned into her mouth. That sound alone was nearly her undoing. She wanted him, wanted to be fucked senseless right there against that wall. As his kisses trailed to her jaw, she decided she had waited long enough.

She was going to have him.

With shaking hands, she undid the first few buttons of his shirt.

"What are you doing?" he whispered against her skin, his kisses coming to a sudden halt.

"I'm taking off your shirt," she replied matter of factly.

"I realize that, love. I suppose the proper question is why?"

"Because I'm going to fuck you senseless."

His entire body tensed and he simply stared at her for a long moment. It made her feel suddenly awkward, as though she had misjudged him and her advances weren't actually welcome.

However, the moment his lips came crashing against hers, she knew that she had said just what he wanted to hear. The kiss startled her hands back into motion and soon his shirt was on the floor, her own following it shortly. A nimble hand undid the clasp on her bra and it too fell away. For a moment he paused, staring hungrily at her breasts.

"Oh, my dear, you are perfect," he sighed.

She felt as thought she should thank him or something, but all thoughts were pushed aside by the sensation of his mouth on her neck and his hands sliding from her shoulders downward. Thumbs grazed her nipples, making her gasp in pleasure. He smirked against her skin, his hands continuing their downward endeavor, until his hands found her ass and he hoisted her upward.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, she ground her hips against his. Through his shorts, she could feel his erection. It made her wet just thinking about the feeling of him inside of her. Again she pressed herself against him, but he simply shook his head, giving her a devilish grin.

"Patience, darling," he muttered, beginning to kiss his way down her chest. "We'll get there soon enough. In the meantime, I think we're in the wrong room for this."

She clung to him as he carried her into the bedroom, giggling as he dropped her onto the bed.

"If I'm going to ravage you I need use of my hands," he smirked.

"What f-"

The question turned into a moan as his mouth latched on to her nipple, teeth tugging at the skin before he ran his tongue over it again. Fingers lightly pinched at the other before his mouth was there to give it equal attention.

"Fuck," she muttered, burying her fingers deep in his dark locks. "You're torturing me."

"Oh no, darling," he smirked. "I haven't even begun to torture you yet."

There was a mischievous look in his eyes that she had never seen before. It was fucking sexy, and made her even hotter for him. Her insides felt as if they were dancing as he undid the button of her jeans, and in one swift motion pulled them off, along with her panties.

"I didn't actually mean to do that," he mused. "But I suppose they were next to go anyway."

Leaning over her, he kissed her tenderly, his hand running up her thigh and settling teasingly over her mound. Whimpering, she bucked her hips, begging him to touch her. That damned smirk never left his lips as he flicked a finger over her clit, making her gasp and squirm.

"You like that, do you?" he teased. "How about this?"

Again his finger found her clit, this time lingering there and rubbing little circles. Gasping, she arched at his touch, no longer feeling in control of her body. She wanted- no- needed him inside of her. All of the time spent waiting for this had built up enough sexual frustration, and now here he was teasing her with these fleeting touches. It was driving her absolutely insane.

"So anxious," he drawled. "And so…sensitive. Tell me, darling, how does this feel?"

Two fingers dove inside her and she cried out in pleasure, fists gripping the comforter. For what seemed like hours he just pulsed there, eyes boring into hers. Finally, he pulled out slowly and shoved back in.

"Oh god," she groaned as he increased his pace.

"John, actually," he said, grinning like the devil incarnate.

"John," she panted, moving her hips in rhythm with his fingers.

Her core started to twist, insides tightening as her climax drew closer and her moans grew louder. Just as she felt she was about to explode, he stopped. Unintentionally, she whimpered, hips trying to follow his fingers as he pulled out.

"Don't stop!" she insisted.

"Good things come to those who wait, love," he winked, undoing his belt buckle. "And I think we've both waited long enough."

Pants and boxers dropped to the floor and she took in his naked form. He was thin, though obviously not unhealthy. Tight muscles were visible beneath his smooth, pale flesh. To her very pleasant surprise, he was very well endowed, his erection standing rock hard at attention. Just looking at him like that sent excited shivers down her spine.

"Are you ready, darling?" he prompted, climbing onto the bed and positioning himself on top of her.

She simply nodded in response.

"Good."

In one swift movement he entered her, filling her as deeply as he could.

"Alice," he groaned, gripping her hips. "You are so wonderfully tight."

The moan she gave in response seemed to please him and he began slamming into her at a desperate pace. It felt as though she had lost control of her vocal chords, each exhale became a sound of pleasure as he ravaged her. Gripping his shoulders, she attempted to keep pace with him.

Suddenly John growled, pinning her arms above her head. His eyes were burning with intensity as he continued to pound into her.

"Tell me you're mine, Alice," he demanded, his voice darker than usual. "Tell me I rule you."

Though she found this odd, she felt she had no right to judge. Maybe dominance was his kink. Honestly, that was pretty sexy.

"Yes," she panted, matching his every thrust. "I'm yours."

"Louder," he hissed, gripping her wrists tighter. "Let the heavens know who your king is."

"I'm yours, John," she screamed as her orgasm hit.

Waves of pleasure took her so hard that her vision blurred. His climax soon followed, a moan escaping him as his hips slowed and he nearly collapsed onto her, sweat beading on his forehead.

For a moment they lay there, breathing hard and covered in sweat. With a deep contented sigh, he rolled off of her and onto his back.

"You are fantastic," he ginned, taking her into his arms.

She hummed in response, cuddling up next to him.

"I've waited so long for that," he said, pulling her close.

"Was it worth it?" she mumbled, unable to get her voice above a low whisper. Her vocal chords ached from screaming so loud.

"More than worth it," he chuckled, brushing some of the hair off her face. "I love you, Alice."

"I love you too, John."

And, to her surprise, she realized she absolutely meant it.


	6. Come Fly With Me

**Author Note: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I am so glad you guys enjoyed the last chapter!**

**In this particular installment, we start out a little bit differently, and again we've done a bit of a time jump. I hope you enjoy it. **

**Please R&R! Thank you!**

* * *

It had been nearly a year and a half to the day since Trudy Sheppard found the man in the ditch. She had been driving to work, just as she was on this day, and had seen him, lying on his back, barely conscious, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He had been dressed strangely, looking as though he had just come from a renaissance fair, and was obviously injured. Panicked, she had called the police, clambering down into the ditch to assist the poor young man. That was the first time she ever laid eyes on the man who would become something of a son to her.

Over the next month, she barely left the hospital. The poor boy had suffered from a case of serious amnesia, remembering nothing of his past, not even his name. Try as they might, the doctors never recovered any of his memory. However, this mattered not to Trudy, she had taken a liking to the boy and found his company very enjoyable. Though he had no memory of his past, he was obviously intelligent. Once he was released from the hospital, she had taken him into her home, shared books with him, introduced him to fine art, nurtured his artistic eye, and eventually helped him get his first few pieces sold before moving him to Chicago.

She missed John something awful. They talked often on the phone, but it had been almost a year since she had seen him off to Chicago and he had yet to return. Often she asked him to, but he always had a reason to stay in his new home. Lately, it had been a named Alice. It was obvious he cared very deeply for her, which made Trudy automatically fond of her. A few times it had been suggested that the two of them should take a vacation to New Mexico to visit. However, that had yet to happen.

Nostalgia had her heart aching as she passed the infamous ditch. The sky was beginning to look a bit stormy, the clouds having turned an awful black color. A bit of thunder rolled overhead and a brief flash of lightning lit the sky. And then suddenly the clouds started doing something very odd. It looked as though they were glowing, pulsing an odd golden color and beginning to swirl together.

Mystified, Trudy slowed the car, staring in awe up at the cyclone that was beginning to form. Again, lightning cracked, this time seeming to revolve around the large cyclone. The tornado became an almost solid tunnel of light, shooting straight at the ground.

Pain shot through Trudy's chest as her heart began to race. Though she knew she should try to drive away from the light, her shaking hands and racing heart kept her from moving. It dawned on her suddenly that this is what a heart attack was meant to feel like.

Desperately, she fumbled for her phone, the pain becoming more severe with each movement. Her vision began to blur, hands shaking too severely for her to even call an ambulance.

Suddenly, there was a figure outside her window. Though she couldn't make it out clearly, it appeared to be a blonde haired man. He gazed in the window for a moment, something red billowing behind him as he stood. Was that a cape?

"Mortal woman!" he shouted, wrenching the door open. "Are you alright? I did not mean to startle you!"

Shaking her head, Trudy attempted to tell him what was happening. However, her voice seemed to catch in her throat, speech seeming to be something she was incapable of.

"Hospital," she hoarsely whispered.

"You need a hospital?" he repeated in his booming voice. "I shall escort you to one immediately!"

Strong arms lifted her out of the car and she was pressed against something that felt like metal. Closing her eyes, Trudy faded into unconsciousness.

* * *

Alice awoke to Frank Sinatra playing down the hall. According to the clock, it was nearly noon and the sun was beating in the window over John's bed, giving the chilly autumn day false warmth. A blind grope over at the other side of the bed told her that John was already awake. No surprise, really, as he tended to be an early riser.

Over the past few months, she had really taken to staying at his apartment. Though she had been hesitant at first, Heather had volunteered to start opening the shop every other day. On nights Alice didn't have to be at the shop early she stayed with John, and on nights that she did have to be up early, he usually stayed at her place.

Though they had only been together six months, Alice felt as if it had been an eternity. Every moment spent with John was bliss. Never before had she even dreamed of finding a man with whom she could see herself spending the rest of her life. She was fiercely independent and not too fond of commitment. However, John was beginning to seem like the exception to her rule.

Yawning, she stretched, the cool air chilling her naked flesh. As she slid out of bed, she picked up one of John's shirts from the floor. It was his favorite blue button up, which he wore almost every time they went out to dinner. She didn't pretend to understand why he loved it so much, but it looked fantastic on him, so she didn't complain.

Pulling on the shirt, she did up a few buttons and began to wander down the hall. From the art room, she could hear him singing along with the record. He had a fantastic voice, especially when singing Sinatra; it was one of her favorite things about watching him paint, he always sang when he was painting. Actually, he sang all the time. It was part of his charm.

Smirking, she leaned on the doorframe, listening to him sing the last few lines of "Come Fly With Me." His eyes were fixated on the canvas before him, his hand leading the brush in small, quick strokes. As he hit the last note, he threw the brush into the cup of water beside him, leaning back on his stool with arms outstretched and head thrown back, as if he had just finished some grand musical number.

Giggling, she applauded and took a few steps into the room. Surprised, he sat up straight, sending her a playful glare.

"That was fantastic!" she grinned, coming around behind him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"You enjoyed that little performance, did you?" he chuckled. "I thought you were asleep."

"I wouldn't miss you singing Sinatra for the world."

His attempts to look cross with her failed and he settled on a good morning kiss instead.

"So, what are you working on today?" she asked, resting her chin on his shoulder.

The canvas before them looked to be mostly done. It depicted an icy wasteland, covered in snow and mountains, which looked to be made entirely of ice. A castle seemed to be the main focus of the piece, though it took her a moment to realize it was a castle at all. It was more of a collection of giant ice pillars that attempted to form a wall.

"More dreams, I take it," she surmised, knowing she was correct.

John was one of the most fitful sleepers she had ever encountered. Some nights he slept in a tight ball, fists clenched, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to collapse in on himself. Other nights he would thrash about, often crying out, spewing curses and threats at unknown enemies. Only once had he ever said her name in his sleep, followed swiftly by the phrase, "You will bend to me, my queen." The phrase had given her pause, made her desperate to know what he was dreaming about. Despite her curiosity, she hadn't asked him about it in the morning. Sometimes it was just better not to know.

"Yeah," he nodded, admiring his own work. "It's a world made entirely of ice. And there are these…monsters that live there."

For a moment it looked as if he were trying to remember something, but he shook his head and looked back at the painting.

"It's sad looking," she commented, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Ice planets aren't exactly happy, darling," he shrugged. "They're meant to be cold, unwelcoming."

"Well, you definitely got that across."

"Good."

The song changed and in one swift movement, he stood, taking her right hand in his and placing his other hand on her hip.

"This is my favorite song on the album," he declared suddenly, beginning to sway her to the first notes of The Way You Look Tonight. "You're going to dance with me."

There was no room for argument in his tone, but she tried to step back regardless.

"No, no, no," he insisted, pulling her to him firmly. "We're dancing."

"You know I don't dance, John," she groaned, feeling suddenly awkward on her feet, especially because of his sudden change in mood.

Attempting to get her to dance was one of his favorite games. He would turn on dance music at all hours of and attempt to take her off guard in hopes of convincing her to dance with him. It rarely worked. On a few lucky occasions, he had taught her the basics of ballroom dancing, waltz, and even managed to get her drunk and bring her to a club once. However, swing dancing was still not in her skill set, but he seemed determined to teach her.

"Alice," he said warningly when she again tried to back away.

With an exaggerated sigh, she gave in, allowing him to lead her around the small space. It bothered her that he was such a fantastic dancer, he had an inner rhythm that she could not even fathom. And try as she may to convince him that she lacked this rhythm, he was persistent in his attempts to help her find it.

"Alright," he grinned once he had her swaying to the beat. "Do you remember how to do the box step I taught you?"

"Vaguely," she muttered, trying to concentrate on not tripping.

"Alright then, this is very much like that. I'm going to step forward, and you're going to step back…right, just like that. Stop trying to lead, darling, that's my job. Just trust me. Okay…again."

To her delight and horror, she was beginning to get the hang of it. She was grateful that the small space of the art room kept him from trying anything too difficult, but she was somewhat enjoying being swayed about like this.

Once he seemed confident that she had the steps down, he stopped instructing her and began to hum along with the song. It made her giggle, especially when he began singing, his voice low in her ear.

Together they began to turn, lost in the song and each other; John's voice hypnotizing Alice.

When the song began to quiet, it felt like it was over too soon. The last notes faded, John's eyes boring into hers as he sang the quiet ending.

Tenderly, he leaned down and kissed her, cradling her face in his hands.

"See?" he smirked. "That wasn't so hard."

"I suppose it wasn't," she conceded.

Again, she kissed him, a bit more fiercely this time. In his usual fashion, he responded instantly, tongue flicking out to trace her lower lip before nipping at it playfully.

"Someone's feeling frisky this morning," she teased.

"I'm sorry, darling," he grinned. "I just can't stand to be pressed against you for so long without wanting to let my hands wander."

Giggles filled the room as his mouth attacked her neck, his hands working at the buttons of the shirt she had stolen from him.

"This looks good on you, by the way," he commented offhandedly. "Very sexy. It will look even better on the floor."

And with that, he pushed it off her shoulders, one hand sliding back up her stomach to give her breast a light squeeze.

The sound of his phone ringing gave him pause. He sighed, letting his arm drop and ignoring the annoyed sound she made.

"I'm sorry," he groaned. "But I have to get this. I'm expecting a call from a guy at the contemporary arts museum."

Reluctantly, she let him take the call. He glanced at the caller ID and looked a bit confused, but took the call regardless.

"Hello?" he answered.

As the person on the other end spoke, his face grew increasingly grim.

"Is she okay?" he asked urgently.

Again he was silent, seeming increasingly panicked as the person on the other line spoke.

"Tell her I'll be there in the morning," he insisted. "Thank you so much for calling."

Ending the call, he hung his head, looking completely forlorn.

"Are you okay?" Alice inquired quietly, placing a light hand on his shoulder. "What happened?"

"It's Trudy," he replied, voice barely more than a whisper. "She had a heart attack. I… I have to go to New Mexico."

Alice's heart sank, both for John's beloved old friend and because the prospect of being without him was a bit unnerving.

"That's terrible," she said sympathetically. "Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to watch the place while you're gone?"

His brow knitted as he considered this.

"Why don't you come with me?" he proposed, taking her off guard for the second time that morning. "I'm sure Trudy would love to meet you."

"I can't just leave the shop," she hesitantly pointed out.

"Heather can take care of it," he insisted. "I'm sure she would be more than happy to help."

Though Alice wasn't too fond of this idea, she felt John needed all the support she could offer. If that meant going to New Mexico, then so be it.

"I'll see what I can do."

* * *

It took little effort to get Heather to cover for her, especially with the promise of extra pay. After a bit of schedule shifting, Alice had managed to get two week's worth of time off. She and John were on the road early enough to beat rush hour, as they began the long drive to New Mexico. Though the cause for the road trip was less than ideal, Alice found it relaxing. Mary-Ann's engine purred as they sped down the highway, the radio blaring punk rock music.

"So how long are we driving tonight?" she asked, glancing over at John, who looked rather beside himself with worry.

Since finding out about Trudy's condition, he had been rather distracted. She couldn't blame him, really. Were her father in the same state, she knew she would be driving countless hours to be by his side as well.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I just want to be there by morning."

"Sweetheart," she tenderly explained. "This drive is going to take a good day and a half. We can drive straight through, but we're going to have to take turns. I don't think I can drive the whole way through."

"We can stop at a hotel when you get tired," he insisted, seeming to return to himself for a moment. "I can call Trudy whenever. They said she's stable, but they don't want to let her out of the hospital yet."

"Are you sure?"

"Darling, I'm just glad you're with me for this. I'm sorry if I'm a bit tense. I'm just worried."

He placed a light peck on her cheek, wrapping a reassuring arm around her shoulders.

"Thank you for coming, love," he smiled. "It means more than you can begin to understand."

And yet, when she looked into his eyes and saw the raw emotion and sincerity, she felt she had a pretty good idea.

"I'm glad to be with you," she honestly replied. "It's our first road trip together."

"Exciting, isn't it?"

"I wish the circumstances were different, but it really is. Maybe we could camp in the desert if Trudy is feeling better?"

"We'll see, love. I don't want to keep you from work too long."

"Apparently Heather's got it covered. I'm all yours for two weeks."

Chuckling, he nodded and turned the radio up.


	7. Starlight

**Author Note: Again, thank you everyone for your continued support. I do love reviews. They make me feel all fuzzy inside. Please leave me some. Tell me what you want to see happen next. I promise to take it into consideration!**

**Also, I again leave a warning that this chapter contains smut. However, it also contains serious plot development, so if you don't want to read it, just sort of skip around it.**

**Anyway, I love you all! Thanks so much for taking the time to read this!**

* * *

Trudy was awake when they arrived late that Thursday evening. It was technically after visiting hours, but the nurse had been nice enough to let them sneak past security. Apparently the darling old woman had been asking about the arrival of her "son" since she had regained consciousness the previous day.

Upon finding her room, John had rushed to her bedside, leaving Alice to stand awkwardly in the doorway as he nearly smothered the old woman in a hug. It had been far too long since they had seen each other, and as soon as she smiled up at him he wondered why he had ever left in the first place. Yes, he loved his career, he loved Alice, but Trudy had been there for him since the beginning. He owed her so much, and yet, he had just packed up and left without a second thought.

"It's about damn time you got here," she greeted with a wink.

"You haven't changed a bit," he grinned, hugging her as tightly as he could without fear of hurting her.

"I'm an old woman stuck in my ways," she laughed, giving him a soft peck on the cheek. "But look at you! You're positively glowing!"

"It's because I'm finally seeing you again!"

"Oh, poppycock! It's this new young lady you've found and we both know it. Where is this darling girl who has stolen your heart anyway?"

John stood suddenly, looking back toward the door. Sheepishly he beckoned to Alice, feeling a bit embarrassed for not introducing her immediately. In the euphoria of seeing his old friend he had nearly forgotten she was with him.

"Trudy," he said proudly. "This is my darling Alice. Alice, this is Trudy my...adoptive mother."

Beaming, Trudy extended a hand, which Alice shook with a grin.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Alice," older woman smiled, her wrinkled consumed by delight. "I suspect Johnny is treating you well."

"Like a queen," Alice assured her. "And it's a pleasure to meet you too. John has told me so much about you."

"All good things, I hope."

"Only good things."

"That's because he's too polite."

"Nonesense!" John insisted. "You're wonderful."

"You've just been away too long," the old woman chuckled.

"So what happened?" he asked suddenly, sitting on the foot of her bed and taking her hand. "They said you had a heart attack."

The old woman's face grew grim and she shrugged.

"Old age is best reason we've come up with," she sighed. "I was driving to work and it started storming and next things I knew I was here."

"Did you drive yourself here?" Alice gasped.

"Oh goodness no! A young man was driving by and found me. He picked me up."

"Do you know who it was?" John inquired. "We should thank him properly. And how did you get your car home?"

"Ruth and her husband went and got the car for me," the old woman chuckled. "And the young man was from out of town anyway. It was just happy chance that he found me."

For a moment her eyes faltered and Alice sensed she was hiding something. It seemed to go right over John's head, so she decided not to pursue it, especially since she was just now meeting the woman John considered to be a mother figure.

It was then one of the nurses slipped in to check on Trudy.

"You know it's past visiting hours," the young nurse commented, beginning to fiddle with the tubes on Trudy's IV.

"Oh, Liz, this is my son and his girlfriend," the older woman explained. "They just arrived from Chicago."

"Well, they technically can't be here," the nurse, Liz, warned. "But we'll give them another few minutes."

"That's okay," John insisted. "We just couldn't wait to see her. We haven't even found a hotel yet."

"Why would you need a hotel?" Trudy piped in. "I thought you would watch the house."

"That's what we were hoping for."

"You are still sly as ever."

"I learned from the best."

He winked and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"We'll come back and see you tomorrow, okay?" he promised.

"You better! Oh! And don't forget to feed the cat when you get to the house. I've had Ruth checking on the place, but I told her you two would be here tonight, so I don't think she's been there today. You know how she is…"

With a cackle, John nodded and gave her a warm hug.

"We'll make sure Henry is well fed and properly played with," he smirked.

Alice took her turn in hugging the old woman before following John out the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she smiled.

"I look forward to it," Trudy replied with a wave.

As they left the hospital, John took Alice's hand, eyes aglow with delight. She seemed relieved to see him happy again and he really couldn't blame her. Though the trip had been long and filled with great music and plenty of potential to make fun of Alice's driving, he hadn't taken advantage of any of it. The worry for Trudy and her health had kept him from enjoying the drive, but now that he knew she was doing well, considering her state, he was fully prepared to enjoy himself.

"She's great," Alice said, resting her head against his shoulder as they walked to the car. "I'm glad we came down."

"Me too," he agreed.

* * *

The hospital was about ten miles from Trudy's house. She had a small cottage on the outskirts of town, where the dwindling suburbs gave way to sprawling desert. John loved the seclusion, but it seemed to put Alice on edge.

"Have never stepped foot outside Chicago, love?" he teased, setting their suitcases in the entry and leading her into the living room. "You know, the entire world isn't a huge sprawling metropolis."

Giggling, she shook her head.

"I've spent my entire life in Chicago," she shrugged. "I didn't really get out much."

"Well, we are certainly out," he grinned. "How do you feel about sleeping under the stars?"

"Sounds romantic, but also like we'd be risking being attacked by poisonous desert creatures."

Taking her hand, he shook his head.

"Not necessarily," he chuckled, leading her down a small hallway to a sliding glass door. "Not here."

He opened the door, leading her onto what initially appeared to be a porch. However, it had walls made entirely of glass, as was the ceiling. There was a telescope in one corner, along with a table and two chairs. To the right, there sat two patio chairs, which reclined, obviously for comfortable stargazing.

"This is beautiful," Alice breathed.

"I know," John agreed. "This used to be my room.

"Your room?"

"Well, technically there is a spare room that was mine, but I stayed in here most nights. I love looking at the stars."

"You must miss it in the city."

"You have no idea."

"Then why do you stay?"

"Now days? For you."

Blushing, she took his face securely in her grasp and kissed him hard. It felt as if his heart jumped in his chest and he responded instantly. Gripping her hair, he pulled her closer to him, stumbling a bit as he attempted to find one of the lounge chairs. His leg collided with the soft cushion and he slumped onto it, laying back and pulling her on top of him.

Gripping her hips, he rubbed himself against her, knowing she could feel his hardness through the jeans he was wearing. She gave a low moan and wasted no time in ripping off her shirt before moving to fumble with his belt.

"In a hurry are we?" he smirked, nipping at her neck. "Where's your sense of foreplay, darling?"

"I just want you to fuck me," she replied, her voice low and husky.

"We'll get there, darling," he chuckled, unhooking her bra and throwing it aside. "Let me have a bit of fun with you first."

Shaking her head, she yanked down his pants, exposing his throbbing erection.

"No," she said decidedly. "It's my turn to have some fun with you."

Slipping off her panties, she hiked up her skirt and slid her slit over him teasingly, seeming to take extra care making sure he could feel her wetness. Groaning, he reached for her hips, but she slapped his hands away.

This surprised him. He was used to being the dominant one when they fucked. It felt natural for him and she never denied him the pleasure of it. This was out of character for her, but he had to admit it aroused him and he was curious to find out what she'd do.

The sensation of her breath on his cock made him gasp and he let out a groan as she descended on him, tongue flicking around the head before closing her lips around him. She took him deeper into her mouth and he threw his head back, a moan slipping from his throat. Hollowing out her cheeks, she began to suck him. Unconsciously, he began to move his hips with her rhythm, but she plated her hands firmly on his waist to stop him.

It wasn't long before he was near finish. Gripping her hair, he pulled her off him and kissed her fiercely.

"Enough," he growled, taking hold of her hips as the beast within him awoke. "Stop teasing and fuck me."

Despite her being on top, it was easy for him to guide her onto him. He thrust into her and she cried out in ecstasy. Gripping her hips tightly, he led her in a rhythm. He found it easy to lead her like this, to dominate her even if she felt that she was leading this.

It wasn't long before her walls were tightening around him and her orgasm took her. The sensation was incredible, though it didn't bring about his release like it usually did. Exhausted, she collapsed onto him, breathing heavily.

Frustrated, he lifted her off and slid out from under her.

"Get on your hands and knees," he commanded, standing up and coming around behind her.

She didn't comply right away and he gave her bottom a light slap.

"I said get up!" he repeated impatiently. "I'm not done with you yet."

Groggily she complied, opening her legs wide to expose her entrance. He wasted no time in taking hold of her hips and slamming into her tight wetness, eliciting another of her delightful shrieks. Leaning over her, he traced her spine with his tongue.

He loved this position. It felt so animalistic, so feral, and allowed him to completely overtake her, to rule her. Whenever they made love he had this instinctual urge to overpower her, to dominate and control her every move. At first she had insisted that she wasn't "into" that dominant act. However, the longer they were together, the more she began to bend to his will. He was more than happy to be the king of her pleasure.

Soon he could feel that telltale sensation of his release nearing. Growling, he increased his pace, fucking her hard and fast until he finally came, spilling into her with a satisfied groan, her name falling off his tongue. She soon followed with a second climax, screaming his name in return and tightening around him.

When she was finished, he pulled out of her, allowing her to roll on her back before collapsing on top of her, his head on her bare chest. Her heart was racing and he just lay there enjoying the sound.

"That was…intense," she commented after a minute or two.

He simply chuckled in response, his fingers running over the outline of the setting sun on her arm.

"I think you forgot to feed the cat," she muttered after some time, sweeping his hair behind his ear.

"I should probably do that," he agreed. "Just give me a moment to…regain myself."

"I figured."

For a while longer, the two of them were silent, simply taking in the sensation of each other's skin. Finally, he found the strength to get up and feed the little tabby cat.

"I love you, John," she whispered as he got up.

"As I love you, Alice."

* * *

The next morning, John awoke with the rising sun. It had been so long since he'd been able to watch as the glowing orange orb lit the desert sky, turning it brilliant shades of pink and orange and finally blue.

He and Alice had set up an air mattress on the sun porch and slept under the stars. She had been exhausted and fallen asleep quickly, while he lay awake staring up at the stars. When he did finally sleep, it had been especially fitful. His dreams were filled with visions of warriors and blue ice giants. There had been a man who had called him brother and wielded a mighty hammer. However, now that he was awake, he couldn't remember the man's face.

Alice awoke a few hours after he did, complaining about how bright the morning sun was as she wondered into the living room. By this time he had made coffee and was sitting at the kitchen table with the cat, Henry, lounging on his lap.

"You get used to it," he assured her, the tabby on his lap looking curiously up at the new visitor. "This is Henry by the way."

The cat hopped off his lap and approached Alice, circling her warily before rubbing against her leg.

"He's cute!" she cooed, picking him up despite his disapproving meow.

"Apparently he likes you," John grinned, watching as the cat sniffed her.

It collapsed like a ragdoll in her arms as she began to pet him.

"We should get a cat," Alice suggested, making John laugh.

"Maybe someday," he chuckled.

Still holding the cat, she sat down across the table from him.

"When are we going to visit Trudy?" she inquired.

"After you shower and get ready," he replied. "I've already done so. I was just waiting for you to get up, but I didn't want to wake you."

"It's not like the sun didn't do it for you," she groused.

"Oh, shut up and go take a shower."

Sticking her tongue out at him, she complied, dropping the cat onto his lap. For a moment he considered joining her, but decided against it as the cat settled. It was so good to be home, especially with Alice. He wished desperately that they could stay longer than the week they were allotted.

* * *

When they arrived at the hospital, Trudy was still asleep. John had sent Alice off to fetch them some lunch while he waited for her to wake up.

It had been a long three days. Alice was absolutely exhausted. Between the long car ride, sleeping in an unfamiliar place, and having crazy sex the previous night, she felt she could sleep for days.

Upon pulling into the Subway parking lot, she noticed a strange vehicle parked outside. It looked like an oversized van, but tall with strange lights on top. It reminded her of the vehicle from the Wild Thornberrys, except it didn't have zebra stripes. Sighing, she got out of the car, knowing full well that she sleep deprived after making that comparison.

The smell of fresh baked bread filled her nostrils as she entered the restaurant. A tall blonde man and his girlfriend were in front of her in line. They seemed to be recently reunited because the girl kept asking how long he had been back.

"I've told you, Jane," the muscular man replied in a booming voice, which he seemed to have a difficult time controlling. "I just got back from visiting Stark. I had to go see him before I could return to you."

"But that lightning storm happened four days ago," the girl objected. "It couldn't have taken that long to fly to see him and then come back."

"Darling Jane, you know I didn't stay away on purpose."

"I know."

Sighing, the girl hugged him before stepping up to give the man behind the counter her order.

Alice found the man's dialect particularly odd. It wasn't necessarily because he spoke like a medieval knight, but more because he spoke almost exactly like John. It wasn't everyday you came across someone with such a strange way of speaking.

Moreover, she wondered if the man was actually talking about visiting the Tony Stark. Honestly, he didn't really look like the type of guy who was friends with Tony Stark. He was wearing a plaid shirt and jeans and, more importantly, it appeared that his girlfriend was the one paying for their meal.

Trying to shake the feeling that there was something incredibly off about the pair, she stepped up to the counter and placed her order. Though she tried hard not to eavesdrop on the couple, she couldn't help hearing bits and pieces of their conversation. So lost was she in listening to the blonde prattle on about trying to find his long lost brother, that she didn't realize he was standing directly in front of her as she began to fill her cup with fountain soda and bumped right into his chest.

The feeling was electric, like a shock going right through her. She gasped, nearly dropping the drink, and spilling the bag of sandwiches on the floor. For a long moment, the man just stared down at her in disbelief. Fearing he was angry, she began to back away slowly.

"No need to apologize, maiden!" he said suddenly, dropping down to one knee to begin gathering her subs for her. "You just…you…"

He put the sandwiches back in the bag and handed it to her, his girlfriend shooting confused looks between the two of them.

"Thank you," Alice awkwardly said before making a beeline for the door.

As she walked out, she heard the girlfriend ask what "all of that" had been about.

"I don't know," the man replied, sounding thoroughly confused. "That mortal woman smelled of Asgard...of Loki."

Thoroughly confused and a bit frustrated with herself, Alice practically ran the rest of the way to her car and practically jumped in, resting her head miserably on the wheel.

She had no idea what the guy could have possibly meant about her "smelling like Asgard," but she definitely recognized the name Loki. If she wasn't mistaken, it was the Norse God of Mischief. Starting the car, she decided that she needed to dig into her mythology books when she got back to Chicago.

* * *

Back at the hospital, Trudy was now wide awake. She and John had broken into the old deck of cards in her purse and started a game of Poker. It was how they always used to spend their nights when he lived with her. Trudy was a card shark and had taught him every game she knew. Poker was still his favorite, especially five-card draw.

"So," Trudy said conversationally. "Have you gotten any of your memory back since the last time I saw you?"

Raising an eyebrow, he shook his head.

"You know what the doctors said," he shrugged. "I've got a blank slate."

Nodding approvingly, the old woman lay down two cards and exchanged them for two in the deck. Grimacing at his hand, John exchanged three of his own.

"You still thinking about going soul searching?" she sniffed.

"I don't think so," he replied, rearranging his cards.

His hand was pretty bad no matter how he looked at it.

"I've got Alice now," he went on, laying down a pair of queens. "I don't think I need to find out who I used to be."

"That's my boy!" Trudy beamed. "Also, you lose."

Cackling, she lay down a full house.

"I still swear you cheat at this game," he scoffed.

Gathering the cards, the old woman began to shuffle.

"I'm just lucky," she winked. "And I don't think you should try to find your old self."

She looked up at him, her eyes seeming far away. It appeared as if she knew something that she wasn't telling him, but he knew better than to pry.

"And why is that?" he carefully inquired.

"Because, John," she warned seriously. "People often don't like what they find."

This concerned him. Between the look in her eyes and the cryptic message, she seemed to know something. Then again, Trudy has always been wise and mildly cryptic at times. And more than anything, he knew better than to pry, especially when she was giving him advice.

As she began to deal again, Alice returned. She looked forlorn and stressed, but shook off John's questions. Apparently, none of the women in his life appreciated prying.

"It was just a long line at Subway," she said, though he could tell she was lying. "And the couple in front of me was being obnoxious and almost spilled my drink. I don't know. I'm just tired."

John unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite, motioning for Alice to join he and Trudy in their card game.

* * *

That night, they returned to the house late, having spent the day playing cards and laughing with the delightful old woman. Alice had perked up a few games in and by the time they arrived home, she was absolutely glowing.

"I love Trudy," she enthusiastically said for the hundredth time. "She's absolutely hilarious."

It was true, for an old woman, Trudy really was great. Not only did she have a great sense of humor, her taste in music was impeccable, which Alice always approved of. The phrase "young at heart" really was the best way to describe the old woman.

Again, they set up the air mattress on the sun porch, this time trading passionate lovemaking for stargazing. Alice cuddled close to John as he pointed out constellations and his favorite stars.

"See that bright one there?" he enthusiastically grinned. "That's Draco…and over there…that's Cassiopeia."

"How do you know all this?" Alice giggled.

"Alice," he sighed. "I studied these stars for months. I know exactly who all of them are. They're like old friends."

Kissing her forehead, he hugged her close. He had been overly affectionate since she had returned from bringing them lunch. Initially she had believed it to be because she was so upset from her run-in with the strange blonde guy. However, she knew him well enough to know that pity affection was usually short lived. He had something on his mind, though she hadn't the heart to ask what.

"Alice," he sighed, as if on cue.

By his tone, she knew whatever was bothering him was about to come out.

"Would you still love me if I found out about my past?" he nearly whispered, the concern in his voice heart-wrenching.

"Of course I would!" she insisted. "What kind of silly question is that?"

"But what if I was a bad person?" he insisted. "What if I was…I don't know…some sort of criminal?"

Rolling her eyes, she pecked him on the cheek.

"Sweetheart," she said seriously. "Whoever you used to be is in the past. No matter who or what you were, it's not who and what you are now. Your past is no matter to me. No matter what it was, you will always be John Walker to me. You'll always be the man I love."

"Promise?" he begged, blue green eyes wide and desperate.

"I promise."

Kissing him tenderly, she turned his attention back to the stars.


	8. Dance of the Doomed

**Author Note: Thank you one and all for the fantastic reviews, favorites, follows, and just for taking the time to read my drivel.**

**This chapter, like the last, is going to be rather fast paced and have a lot of plot development. It is also really long. I've realized that I need to bring Loki back soon, or I'm going to drag this out for like…50+ chapters. Actually, that may happen anyway.**

**Anyway, here goes…**

* * *

Trudy came home the day before they had to leave for Chicago. They spent most of the afternoon making sure she and her new oxygen tank would be comfortable and then stayed up late playing cards. In the week and a half she had known the old woman, Alice had learned and perfected more card games than she had previously known existed.

They sat around the small dining room table playing Texas Hold 'Em. Poker was Trudy's favorite game and she knew every variation in the book.

"So," the old woman said conversationally. "When will you kids be back to visit?"

Alice thought for a minute, knowing full well that Heather would kill her if she took another trip this long in the near future.

"How about Christmas?" John suggested, flipping three of the cards on the table.

Christmas was definitely okay for Alice. It was tradition that she and Heather closed the shop for the week between Christmas and New Years to give the staff a vacation. Heather always went to visit her family in Michigan, while Alice stayed alone in her apartment and maybe went to visit her dad on the holiday, if they were speaking at that point.

"Christmas is good," Alice agreed. "I won't be doing anything."

"Well, I won't keep you the whole time," Trudy smiled. "I'm sure your mom and dad will want to see you."

Frowning, Alice shook her head.

"Probably not," she sighed. "Dad and I aren't speaking at the moment and my sister Becca is going to be in Europe."

"What about your mom, honey?"

It was an innocent question, but it made Alice uneasy. She knew that Trudy was simply curious, but her mother was a touchy subject.

"She…won't miss me," Alice replied carefully. "She hasn't…well…I haven't seen her since I was six. She left my dad and we never heard from her again."

The silence that followed was almost tangible. It seemed to ring off the walls to the point that even breathing seemed to be interrupting it.

"It's not a big deal," Alice mumbled finally. "She just…doesn't care."

Clearing his throat, John took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"She doesn't know what she is missing," he said in almost a whisper.

"I'm sure she does," Alice disagreed. "She just didn't want a family. After she had my sister she started telling dad that she's made a mistake. She would leave and not come back for days at a time, and when she did she was so strung out that she didn't really serve as much of a mom. One day she just never came back."

"That's terrible, sweetheart," Trudy soothed. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

The subject was becoming increasingly irritating by the second. Honestly, Alice hated her mother for what she had done. Because of the lack of commitment between her parents, Alice had always feared getting into a serious relationship. In fact, before John she had never been with one guy for more than a few months, her longest relationship lasting little more than a year. At 25, she could not say she had ever actually been in love. That is, until John came along.

In that respect, their relationship terrified her. She found herself depending on him emotionally, needing his support in her decisions. Not only that, but she would often lay awake at night fearing what would happen if he ever left her. It would absolutely crush her, and that was terrifying. Honestly, she had reached the point where she could hardly picture life without him. This had happened quite early in their relationship, which had almost driven Alice to leaving him, but Heather had been the voice of reason and urged her to stay. According to Heather, this was normal in serious relationships.

"That's what love is like," she had assured her. "It's feeling completely connected to the other person. Love happens when two people become one."

For the sake of Alice's sanity, she really hoped Heather had been right.

"Are you alright, darling?" John asked softly, waving a hand in front of Alice's face.

This brought her crashing back down to reality and she nodded as she began to compose herself.

"I'm fine," she muttered. "Just really tired. I should go to bed."

By the look on the others faces, she could tell they knew she was lying, but they simply excused her from the table, John promising to meet her in the bedroom in a minute.

As she walked to the spare room, she could hear John and Trudy talking in low tones. She knew full well that Trudy insisting that she was sorry for bringing up the subject of her mother and John insisting that it was his fault for not warning her. It made her feel guilty for reacting so badly, but the thought of her mother made her sick to her stomach. Likely a side effect of spending her entire childhood telling everyone her mom was dead to save the pain of admitting she had abandoned the family.

Trying to push away negative thoughts, Alice changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed. They were still sleeping on the sun porch, taking advantage of the view while they still had the chance. For a while she just lay there, going over the names of the stars in her head while she waited for John to join her.

He came to bed soon after, curling up beside her and pulling her into his arms.

"I'm so sorry, darling," he whispered, tracing her jaw line with lingering kisses. "I shouldn't have left Trudy in the dark about…"

"John," Alice sighed, rolling onto her side to face him. "I just don't want to talk about it. But please stop blaming yourself. It's no one's fault that I'm fucked up. No one's except my own."

Though he looked as though he wanted to argue, he didn't pursue the subject. Instead, he kissed her once, fiercely on the mouth.

"You're not fucked up, darling," he assured her. "I think you're perfect."

"I think your perception is warped."

"Maybe. But that's still no reason for you to feel less than perfect. I still love you regardless." He kissed her lightly. "Now, let's see if you remember all the constellations."

* * *

The next morning was difficult, to say the least. John had no desire to leave and took his sweet time packing up the car and taking extra care to make sure that Trudy was going to be okay after they left. She insisted she was fine, despite toting the small oxygen tank on a cart behind her, and gave them each a hug and a kiss as they got in the car.

For the first hour of their trip, John was quiet, disappointed that the pseudo-vacation had passed so quickly. After a while he perked up, to Alice's relief. They listened to John's favorite songs, Alice even singing along when he snuck a Lady Gaga song into the mix.

It soon became an incredibly enjoyable journey. They drove for hours, just the two of them, the desert highway, and the top rolled down so that they could enjoy the warm autumn day.

When they stopped for the night, Alice noticed she had a missed call from Heather. Fearing there was something wrong at the shop, she called back as soon as they checked into the room.

"Thank God you called back!" Heather sighed. "You're never going to guess what happened."

"What?" Alice asked, feeling a bit of panic prickle up her spine.

"Well," Heather said, audibly grinning, which set Alice at ease a bit. "Do you remember Brendan Kelly? The dude that was in the punk band-"

"The Lawrence Arms," Alice interrupted, more than familiar with the Chicago locals. "What about him?"

"You know he used to come into the store all the time?"

"Yeah. Heather, what's your point?"

"He called this morning wanting to know if we would want to sponsor a show he's doing at House of Blues."

"That's a big venue," Alice warily said. "How much does he want?"

"He said for two hundred we could have our name on the bill. It would be really good for business."

"I know," Alice groaned, trying to mentally figure out whether or not the store had the extra cash to fund the show. "I suppose we could do it."

"Good, because I already told him we would."

"You're such a shit Heather!"

Despite herself, Alice couldn't help laughing. It was just like Heather to make executive decisions without her.

"But you love Brendan!" Heather objected.

"I really do," Alice agreed. "That fucking new record of his…"

John tugged on her arm and motioned at the door. They had plans to get dinner and catch a movie as an attempt to savor the last few hours of their vacation.

"Thanks for calling to warn me," Alice sighed. "I think John and I are going to dinner, though, so I'll talk to you tomorrow. We should be home tomorrow night."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," Heather agreed. "Bye."

Hanging up the phone, Alice turned to John.

"You like Brendan Kelly, right?" she inquired, beginning to lead him out the door.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "I believe you've played me some of his music before. Why?"

"Because the shop is sponsoring one of his shows."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"It's going to be great for business. Not so great for my psyche. Come on, let's go to dinner before I start stressing too much about this."

Not needing to be told twice, John took her hand and started suggesting places to go for dinner.

* * *

Late the next night, they arrived back at Alice's apartment. It had been a long trip and they were both exhausted, but Alice was determined to unpack a bit before calling it a night.

As she wandered into the office to see what Heather had put on the next order, a book on the shelf caught her eye. The words "Norse Mythology" glinted in gold letters off the deep green book spine. It felt as though she were suddenly back in the Subway in New Mexico, the words of the strange blonde man ringing in her ears.

"_She smells of Asgard…of Loki."_

She still had no idea what it had meant, but she knew that the book held enough answers to give her an idea.

Plucking it from the shelf, she went to join John in bed.

When she arrived, he was reading as well. However, his book of choice was a biography about Vincent Van Gogh. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the book in her hands, but didn't question her.

"I told you I like Norse Mythology," she defended, slipping under the covers beside him.

"I did not question you, did I?"

"You gave me the look."

Rolling his eyes, John went back to his book.

Alice opened the book to the index, searching for the name Loki. It sounded so familiar, but it had been ages since she had read about Norse Mythos.

Finally, she found him. Loki, the Trickster God; she couldn't help being intrigued.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, neither John nor Alice really had time for each other. Yes, they made the effort to watch a movie together or play videogames in the evening, but it often ended in one of them getting distracted by work.

Between catching up at the shop and touching base with Brendan Kelly's "people", Alice felt she had a lot on her plate. However, John was the one who really felt behind.

Within the first week of being home, he had finished nearly eight pieces, all for different individuals. Then there was the call from the art institute about potentially featuring a few more of his pieces in their gallery. They wanted three rather large pieces, which would normally have taken him a few weeks each, in two weeks' time. Though he knew he could manage, it was left little time for anything else.

Finally the night of the concert rolled around, finally bringing something of an end to Alice's stress, and only adding to John's. He had promised he would attend the show with Alice, seeing as it meant a lot to her, but it also meant taking away from valuable work time. By this point, he had a mere three days to put the finishing touches on his work and make them decent enough to display in the museum.

Though he had agreed to meet Alice at the show early, he ended up being nearly an hour late, still trying to pick paint off his fingers. Alice met him outside, looking fantastic. She was wearing her favorite plaid skirt and a Ramones tank-top under her leather jacket. A pair of heeled combat boots complimented her fishnet stockings, making her look by far like the sexiest punk rocker he had ever seen. She offered him a chaste kiss and a half-hearted greeting, but her eyes betrayed her disappointment at his lateness.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I've just been so busy…"

"I know," she said shortly. "And it's…okay. But Brendan is going to be on any minute. We need to go."

She threw a backstage pass around his neck rather roughly and led him inside. The excitement he had felt at the chance to finally go backstage at a show was overshadowed by guilt.

Heather was waiting for them when they got backstage. A tall dark-haired man was standing next to her with his arm around her shoulders. When she noticed them, she jumped and waved a little, seeming to throw the guy off.

"You finally made it!" she yelled, attempting to be heard over the roar of the crowd as the man John could only assume to be Brendan Kelly swaggered onto the stage, followed by a man with a shaved head whom John recognized to be Dan Adriano, the other member of Brendan's side project.

"It appears that way," he smiled, glad that Heather didn't seem cross with him for his tardiness. He sincerely hoped that she would help defuse Alice as the night went on.

"Alice was getting antsy, but Erick and I have been keeping her occupied. Have you met Erick?"

"I don't believe so. Are you two-?"

"He's just her date," Alice explained as quietly as she could. "He's a bartender here and they've gone on a few dates, but I don't think she's that into him."

Trying his best not to snicker, John extended a hand and introduced himself. The music started, drowning out any chance for conversation they may have had. This seemed to brighten Alice considerably and soon she seemed to forget that she had ever been frustrated with him.

It turned out to be a great show and went off without a hitch. Brendan and his band played all of Alice's favorite songs and she and Heather sang every word. Much to his delight, Alice even danced with him a bit; ignoring the strange looks the roadies gave them. He considered taking her to concerts more often if this was how she always acted.

When they listened to music at home he could see the way she got caught up in it, but seeing it live was a completely new experience. It seemed to pick her up and whisk her away to a place of complete freedom. She let go of all inhibitions and got lost in the sound. It was beautiful to watch.

When the show was over, it seemed that it had gone too soon. A sweat-covered Brendan Kelly bounded offstage and right up to Alice, who was still clapping and cheering.

"Record store girl!" he grinned, giving her a high five. "How did you like the show?"

Alice looked surprised, but tried to hide it with a casual smile.

"It was fantastic!" she gushed. "I have to admit, I sang along to every song."

"Awesome! Who's your friend?"

"Oh! This is John, my boyfriend. Sweetheart, this is Brendan Kelly."

"I assumed," John grinned, taking the guitar player's sweaty hand and shaking it. "Pleasure to meet you. Alice hasn't stopped playing your record since she found out about the show."

"You've got a girl with excellent taste in music then. Lucky man!"

"I like to think so."

"If you guys aren't doing anything after the show, it would be great if you'd hang around in the VIP lounge with us. We could have some drinks and hang out for a bit."

"Of course! That sounds fun!"

Though initially John wanted to decline the invitation, Alice's expression had him reconsidering. It would be good for him to take a night off and relax. With a sigh, he nodded and agreed.

"Excellent!" Brendan smirked. "Follow me! First round is on the house!"

They made their way upstairs, Heather and Alice exchanging excited faces behind Brendan's back. John knew that both girls were rather crazy about both of the man's bands and being invited to have drinks with him was kind of a dream come true for both of them. Though John hadn't been particularly impressed by the man, whose breath already smelled of whiskey when he came offstage, he hoped a drink or two would help clear his mind of inhibitions.

The VIP lounge was admittedly impressive; there was a bar and lots of swanky leather furniture. The guitarist took a seat at the bar and Alice and Heather sat on either side of him. John took a seat beside Alice, draping an arm around her shoulders and waiting for the bartender to take their orders.

Right away Brendan ordered them each a shot of whiskey. They made a toast to the great show and the record shop and threw back the hard liquor. It had been a while since John had drank anything stronger than a glass of wine and the burn of whiskey was unfamiliar on his throat. Grimacing, he looked over at Alice, who had downed hers like a champ.

"Another!" she exclaimed gleefully, smiling like an idiot when the musician high fived her.

"I'll just have a Guiness," John decided.

Another round of drinks appeared on the bar and this time they toasted to love and happiness. Taking a swig of his beer, John watched Alice take another shot, this time making a bit of a face as it went down.

"You drink like a pro, girl," Brendan snickered. "But the real question is, can you out drink me?"

"If we switch over to beer, it is really likely," Alice giggled, making John feel a pang of jealousy at the way she looked at the musician.

He knew it meant nothing and he shouldn't suddenly feel so defensive, but watching her practically flirt with the other man hurt his masculinity a bit. Glancing over at Heather, he sensed that she must have noticed as well, as she was pointedly ignoring Alice and talking to Erick. Trying to ignore his ill feelings, John downed the rest of his drink and motioned for another.

It appeared shortly, just as three pints appeared in front of Alice and another three in front of Brendan.

"We'll start small," Brendan decided. "Whoever can drink all of theirs first wins. Loser has to pay for the next round."

"Deal," Alice said confidently.

On the count of three the two of them began drinking. It was rather impressive to watch, Alice keeping pace easily. One down, two down, and the third empty glass slammed down on the bar seconds before Brendan's did.

"Holy shit!" he laughed, resting a hand on Alice's shoulder. "That was fucking insane."

"What?" she challenged, obviously feeling more than a little tipsy by this point. "Haven't you ever seen a girl drink before?"

"Not like you do!"

"I'm just that fucking good."

"I'm sure you are!"

And then he did the unthinkable. Well, to John it seemed like the unthinkable. The smug bastard leaned over and placed a wet, sloppy kiss on Alice's cheek, _his_ Alice's cheek. All attempts to swallow his jealous proved futile and he turned to them rigidly.

"What the fuck?" he growled, pushing away his empty glass.

"What's wrong, man?" the drunken guitarist asked, obviously oblivious to the fact he had done something wrong.

"You're what's wrong!" John exclaimed, practically jumping up from his seat. "What could have possibly made you think that was fucking okay?"

"What, man? It was just a little friendly kiss."

"There was nothing friendly about that, you moron!"

A shadow crossed Alice's face and she put what was meant to be a calming hand on his chest.

"John," she insisted. "It's fine. It didn't mean anything."

Her attempts to calm him had quite the opposite effect. It felt as if he was seeing red as he struggled to form a coherent reply. He felt like a man possessed and let out a frustrated growl.

"He fucking kissed you!" he yelled, slamming his fist down on the bar.

"I realize that," Alice spat. "But you're being irrational."

"Irrational? Irrational! You really think-"

"Yes! I do, actually!"

Balling his hands into fists, he shook his head and stormed out, knowing Alice would follow. Naturally, she didn't disappoint. The both of them wallowed in silent rage as they left the building and their confused friends behind, stepping out into the crisp Chicago night.

"You just have to ruin everything, don't you?" she growled, stepping to the curb and putting her hand out to hail a taxi.

"Ruin everything?" he repeated. "Alice, I… he…. He touched you. He kissed you. Do you understand how fucking out of line that was?"

"Not as out of line as you freaking the fuck out on him!" she shot back. "How does that fucking make me look when you act like this?"

"Make you look? Oh my GOD, DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO BE ABOUT YOU?"

He was screaming now, ignoring the looks the security guards were giving them.

"You're making everything about me!" she shrieked.

"No!" he raged, running agitated hands through his hair. "He fucking… put his hands on you. You. Are. Mine. Alice." He was in her face now, backing her into the brick wall behind her as he towered over her, eyes burning with anger. "I own you. And I don't like people touching my things."

She looked genuinely afraid for the briefest of moments, but that fear turned swiftly into rage. With a growl, she reeled back and slapped him hard across the face.

It felt suddenly as if a weight were lifted from his shoulders. His anger began to dwindle and fade, dropping him mercilessly back to reality.

"I-" he began, but she shook her head and cut him off.

"No," she panted. "Don't apologize. You meant everything you said. I hate to break it to you, but you don't own me John. I'm not some fucking trophy that you can display on a shelf. I'm a person; a fucking human being. I won't be treated like something less."

Backing away, John held up his hands as if surrendering.

"I know," he sighed, thumb and forefinger messaging the bridge of his nose. "I was being stupid."

A taxi pulled up to the curb and Alice slid inside. For a moment he debated joining her, but she left the door open and appeared to be waiting for him, so he slid in beside her.

The ride back to her apartment was awkward to say the least. Neither of them spoke, the tension between them practically tangible. The five minute ride felt more like hours and John practically sighed with relief when he saw the record shop out the window. He handed the driver and twenty and opened the door, Alice not saying a word as she slipped past him.

"I'll just assume you want me to go back to my place then," he groaned, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

Still not saying a word, she shook her head and motioned for him to follow her upstairs. Though nervous, he complied.

Once they were inside, she slammed the door and turned a fiery gaze at him.

"You embarrassed me, John," she said through gritted teeth, this time backing him up against the wall. For such a short woman, she was good at making herself seem tall and intimidating. "You embarrassed me not only in front of Heather, but Brendan fucking Kelly. The man who agreed to put the shop on the bill of his fucking sold out show just because he likes the place. I'm sorry that he kissed me on the fucking cheek like friendly people fucking do sometimes."

With a sigh, he shook his head.

"You don't understand," he objected. "It's not that he kissed you. Well…it is, but that's not all of it. It's the way he kissed you. That wasn't just a friendly kiss. That was a challenge."

"You're just an ego maniac!" she accused.

"No," he explained, trying to stay calm this time. "See this is a friendly kiss."

He pulled her toward him roughly and planted a chaste peck on her cheek.

"Okay?" he gritted out. "And this is a challenge."

This time he allowed the kiss to linger, taking care to make sure the taste of her skin lingered on his lips.

"Alright," she conceded. "So he was drunk and kissed my cheek like an idiot. It was still no reason for you to turn into an irrational jerk."

This deflated him a bit and he offered a nod to show he accepted her point. There was still fire in her eyes, but it seemed to dissipate a bit as she stared up at him.

Unable to stop himself, he brought his lips crashing against hers, wrapping her in his embrace and overpowering her body with his.

"And what sort of kiss is that?" she asked huskily, her anger now seeming gone.

"That is how an irrational jerk kisses you," he replied.

As they stared into each others eyes, he suddenly was overcome by lust. There was no room for anything else in his mind; no anger, no frustration, just the primal urge to fuck her senseless. She seemed to catch on, and brought her lips slamming against his. Backing her into the wall, he allowed his hands to travel up her thighs, pushing her skirt up. The stockings she was wearing ended suddenly, and he felt the lace of a garter belt. Letting out a ragged breath, he looked down at her, eyes burning with lust.

"Oh, you are naughty," he husked, pushing her skirt up further and running his fingers along her panty line. They were obviously lace, which only aroused him more.

Slowly he slid his hand beneath the material, feeling the wetness between her legs and rubbing a finger teasingly against her clit. The moan that escaped her was low and desperate, making him desperate for her.

"John," she said through gritted teeth. "I need you to fuck me."

"Don't you want to-?" he began, but she was apparently not in the mood to waste time.

"Right here," she interrupted, pushing her panties down and kicking them off. "Right now. Fuck me."

There was no room for debate in her tone. In one swift movement, she undid his belt and jeans and pushed them off, along with his boxers. His length sprang free and the feeling of her hand teasing him made him groan in pleasure. Pushing up her skirt, he grabbed her ass and lifted her up, entering her with one fierce thrust.

"Fuck," she screamed, bucking her hips so his length filled her completely.

"Fuck," he agreed, pinning her to the wall as he pounded into her relentlessly.

She was so hot and wet, her tightness gripping him with each thrust. This was the first time they had ever fucked like this. It was so primal, so angry, and just so fucking hot. In a short time, her first orgasm swept over her, the muscles in her tightening and spasming around him, her screams of pleasure filling the room. When it passed, her legs seemed to go a bit slack around his waist and he paused.

"Tired already?" he teased.

"Not a chance," she said mischievously, her voice low.

"Good."

Her legs tightened around him again and he resumed his exhausting pace.

"Do you know what you do to me?" he groaned, biting at her neck and receiving a gasp in return. "You driving me crazy, Alice."

With a little strangled cry, she started to again match his every thrust.

"You like that, do you?" he teased, suddenly slowing his pace.

He could tell she was near her second orgasm by the way she was gripping his shoulders. It was far more fun to tease her at this point, just to see what she would do. Whimpering, she bucked her hips, desperate for more.

"Not so fast," he whispered, nipping at her earlobe.

"Just fuck me," she whined, attempting to ride him, despite her submissive position.

"Tsk, tsk," he smirked. "So desperate."

Slowly, he entered her fully and then pulled back at the same excruciatingly slow pace. His muscles were beginning to ache from the position, but he was enjoying it too much to stop. With some effort, he maintained the slow pace, which only seemed to make her more anxious.

"Is this not satisfactory, darling?" he questioned, enjoying the growl of frustration that she let out.

"Stop playing around," she demanded. "Fuck. Me. Hard."

Grinning evilly, he slammed into her, making her cry out.

"Like that?"

"Yes!" she cried, and he did it again. "Faster."

She was getting demanding now, and he was enjoying it. Each word served as a reminder of how badly she needed him, making the kiss that he had found so threatening now seem silly in comparison. Gritting his teeth, he increased his pace, each thrust making a satisfying thud echo off the wall.

His climax neared and he dug his fingernails into the bottom of her thighs. They came at the same time, both panting and growling in mutual ecstasy, collapsing to the floor as the waves of pleasure slowly started to subside.

"Fuck," Alice sighed, rolling onto her back. "That was…crazy. We should have make-up sex more often."

He really couldn't help agreeing.


	9. Cities of Night

Author Note: Thank you to all the new followers! I'm glad you guys are enjoying it. Again, I beg you to review. Just pop in and say hello. It's literally the best inspiration.

Also, this chapter contains mildly BDSM-ish smut. There are not actual whips and chains or anything, but there is a bit of spanking. It's really not too bad, but I felt the need to warn you all.

Disclaimer: I am bad at research. The Norse Mythology references are vague, but I'm sorry if I get something wrong, regardless.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading! I hope very much that you enjoy it!

* * *

The Stark Foundation had been funding annual art exhibitions for up and coming artists for years now. Once a year an artist was chosen to be featured in whatever Stark-funded art museum was closest to his or her hometown.

It had been Pepper's idea, naturally, and Tony was happy to sit back and let her make his company look good. When she had been promoted to CEO of Stark Industries, she had suggested he be the one to pick the art that would be featured, but changed her mind when he had attempted to fill an entire gallery with Iron Man fan art.

Now days, she left it to a committee.

This year, they had chosen a man out of Chicago, and she had to admit, she loved his work. He painted fantastic landscapes of imaginary places. It was beautiful and Pepper hoped Tony wouldn't object to her buying a few to hang around the tower after the exhibition.

With the applicant having already been informed, a date having been set with the museum, and the finer details being worked out by one of the assistants, Pepper's only worry now would be convincing Tony that coming to the opening would be worth his time.

"What's this?" he asked as he stepped off the elevator, eyeing the paperwork she had placed on the kitchen counter. "You know the rule against doing work in the house."

"This isn't work," she insisted, grabbing one of the folders off the counter. "This is the artist they've picked for the annual art exhibition. We're going to Chicago for New Years now."

Rolling his eyes, Tony took the folder from her.

"John Walker?" he read, raising an eyebrow at her. "Seriously? Just the guy's name makes me yawn. Pepper, you aren't actually trying to make me go to an art exhibition featuring a guy named after whiskey, are you?"

"Tony," Pepper said warningly, ripping the folder out of his hands and flipping to the print outs of some of his work. "Look at this! The guy has talent. He deserves this. And you should be there to congratulate him."

Again Tony took the folder, giving a passive nod, which Pepper knew meant he was at least mildly impressed.

"Do we really have to go all the way to Chicago for this?" he whined. "We could pay for him to come here, couldn't we?"

"We've already made arrangements with the Chicago museum," Pepper explained, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter.

"Fine," he sighed, flipping through the pages in the folder. "You can go."

"I want you to come with me. This is funded by the Stark Foundation, and people expect the face of Stark Industries to be there!"

But Tony had stopped listening. He was staring at a snapshot of the artist, who looked an alarming amount like a certain Norse God he had defeated nearly two years previous. A certain Norse God whose brother had recently returned to Earth, but wouldn't admit why. But this told Tony everything he needed to know about Thor's return.

"Well," he sighed, snapping the folder shut. "It looks like we're going to Chicago."

* * *

"Alice!"

John bounded into the shop, seeming to startle the few customers that were milling through the rows of records.

"Sorry," he muttered, slowing his pace and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

He took a few quick steps and crossed to the counter, where Alice was busy typing at the computer. It felt as if his heart was about to beat out of his chest from the sheer amount of excitement he was trying to contain.

"What's up?" she asked, not looking up at him.

"I have fantastic news!" he replied, bouncing on his toes. "You know how I entered that contest that the Stark Foundation was hosting?"

"You mean the one I begged and pleaded you to enter?" she grinned.

"Yes, that one!" he chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Well…I got a call back."

"And?"

She looked up at him now, biting her lip in anticipation of good news.

"They want me to be the feature of the exhibition!" he practically squealed. "I am uncontrollably excited!"

"I can tell," Alice smirked.

Jumping off her seat, she came around the counter and wrapped her arms around him.

"Congratulations, sweetheart," she smiled, placing a quick kiss on his lips. "What are you going to enter?"

"I'm not really sure," he admitted. "Probably the castle pieces. Though, it's very likely I'll just do a few new ones."

"I could come over after work and help you pick."

"You could just come over after work. We could celebrate…"

Waggling his eyebrows suggestively, he kissed her forcefully.

"I'm working!" she teased against his lips, but gave him another quick peck before sitting back on her stool.

"So I'll see you around eight?"

"Most likely."

"Excellent! I have to get back to work, though. I just wanted to tell you the good news."

"I'll see you tonight, sweetheart!"

The bell above the door jingled as he left, offering a wave over his shoulder as he went.

Her computer work now finished, she picked up her Norse Mythology book, opening to the page she had bookmarked. She had all but memorized the stories by this point, but she couldn't help finding them fascinating. However, now that she was familiar with the lore of both Asgard and Loki, she couldn't help thinking the man in the Subway had been seriously delusional. Perhaps she had misheard him, perhaps he had been on some sort of drug; whatever the case, it had rekindled her love for mythology, despite continually perplexing her.

That night, she was still engrossed in her book. Though she attempted to help John pick out the paintings he should feature in his gallery, she kept getting sucked back into the ancient stories every time he so much as turned his back.

"I'm going to take away that blasted book if you don't start paying attention," he grumbled, snatching it out of her hands.

"Don't lose my page!" she gasped, getting up from the couch to follow him.

Laughing, he glanced down at the book, eyes skimming the story she had been reading.

"You're reading about Loki again?" he snorted. "You know, darling, if you really lack reading material, I think I've got some astronomy books around here somewhere."

"I don't need astronomy books!" Alice grumped. "I need you to give me my book back."

"I just can't understand your love of this character," he admitted. "He is always up to no good."

"It's because he's complicated," Alice defended. "He does all these mischievous things with intent for them to just be harmless pranks, and then something goes wrong and he ends up look more like a villain than intended. It's kind of sad, really."

Quirking an eyebrow, John glanced up from the book.

"He's really just a villain, Alice."

"People are complicated, John. Fictional characters are just as complicated."

Shaking his head, he went back to reading the story Alice had been enthralled in.

It was the tale of Loki's run-in with the dwarves after cutting the golden hair of Lady Sif. Thor had been so angry with Loki that he had threatened to break every bone in his body if he didn't replace the woman's golden hair. So Loki enlisted the help of two dwarves and they wove Sif hair from real gold that, when placed on her head, were grow like normal hair. And then they also made a spear and a ship and said that these were the finest gifts they could make. But that wasn't enough for Loki. He bet them his head that they could make better gifts. The dwarves then made a boar with golden bristles, a golden ring, and the hammer Mjolnir. Loki gave these gifts away (which was how Thor came to possess his hammer) and outwitted the dwarves in their attempts to collect his head by telling them they could not take any part of his neck. However, the dwarves were unhappy about this and had his lips sewn shut as recompense so that he could not outwit them again.

"I remember this one," he mused, beginning to leaf through the other pages. "Trudy told me this story when I first moved in with her. I used to trick her into doing all these favors for me… nothing too bad… just buying extra groceries that I wanted without making me pay her back or talking my way out of applying for jobs that she suggested I try. She told me that if I didn't stop using my silver tongue for evil, she was going to get dwarves to sew my lips shut. Funny old lady, isn't she?"

There was an odd, faraway look in his eyes. They seemed greener than usual, though she couldn't come up with an explanation as to why. It made Alice uneasy and gave her this creeping feeling that John was remembering something from his life before the accident.

Lately, she had been struck with that feeling a lot. He swore up and down that he didn't remember anything of his past life, but sometimes, in moments like these, it almost seemed as if he were catching glimpses of what once was. Though she had no idea what those glimpses held, she didn't think she liked it. Afterward he was always slightly angry, and it put her on edge to be around him sometimes.

"Maybe you could do something else with that silver tongue of yours," she suggested, desperately trying to bring him back to reality without putting him off.

Those oddly green eyes snapped up at her and for the briefest of moments they were filled with confusion, as if he didn't completely recognize her.

"I mean, you did say you wanted to celebrate getting into the exhibition," she

winked, trying to ignore how uneasy his gaze was making her.

"I would think that if we were celebrating my victory, you would be the one pleasing me," he replied, his voice low.

He didn't sound like himself when he was like this, his voice crisp and sly, lacking the energetic enthusiasm it usually held. That enthusiasm was replaced by a self-assured arrogance. He spoke like a king.

"That seems awfully selfish," she teased. "Share the love, babe."

Grinning, she stepped close to him and kissed him fiercely. When she pulled away, he blinked a few times, seeming to come back to himself.

"Whoa there, tiger," he chuckled. "We can celebrate after we pick out a couple paintings. If you stop reading and decide to help this will go a bit faster. And then we can…celebrate."

Relieved to hear him sound like himself again, she agreed.

* * *

The weeks leading up to the art exhibition, which was being held on New Years Eve, flew by. John was severely disappointed that they had to postpone their trip to New Mexico, but knew it was for the best. Countless hours were spent painting, putting the finishing touches on the project.

He rarely came to Alice's house over the course of those weeks. Most of their time was spent at his apartment as he worked, and Alice either sat and watched him work or read. It was almost boring, truth be told.

However, John was ever the romantic. Every night, after a long day of work for both of them, he would greet Alice at the door, put on some music, and bring her out to the balcony for a glass or two of wine.

One night, Alice arrived particularly late, looking absolutely exhausted. At the door, he greeted her with a kiss, asking how her day was. As he expected, it had not gone well. With Heather in grad school, Alice was the only manager that could work long hours during the week. With the rush of people trying to do last minute shopping before Christmas, her days seemed to become increasingly trying.

"I just can't wait until we close next week," Alice sighed, flopping down on the couch. "With Heather having exams this week, she is fucking useless around the shop. It's not her fault, but I really can't wait until she graduates next Spring."

He considered pointing out that at that point, it was likely that Heather would go find a legitimate career. Obviously, Alice knew this already, but seemed to have herself convinced that Heater's master's degree in Music History would keep her working at the shop.

"How about we go have a drink?" he proposed, knowing she wouldn't argue.

It had been a surprisingly warm winter, especially by Chicago's standards. Of course, they still had to wear jackets on the balcony, but John had put a tall heat lamp beside the bistro table to keep them from getting too cold. In fact, lately they had been sitting out in only sweaters without getting too chilly.

Together they slipped outside, John flicking on the porch light and plugging in the heater. Alice pulled her warm hoodie a bit more tightly around her shoulders and took a seat on one of the tall chairs.

"Care if I smoke?" she asked, not waiting for an answer before lighting one of her cigarettes.

By this point, she knew he didn't mind if she smoked on the balcony. It wasn't like it happened often; in fact, he was in the process of convincing her to quit. However, with the week she had been having, he knew better than to pester her with his disapproval.

Pouring them each a glass of wine, he watched her smoke; enjoying the way the grew-white tendrils snaked from her mouth as she exhaled, staring distantly out to the water. It was obvious that it was calming her, silencing the inner storm of stress she had been battling all day. She was absolutely beautiful to watch.

After toasting to the end of the week coming fast, they each sipped their wine, John turning on some music to give them a bit of background noise. The first song to start playing was one of their shared favorites; "A Song for Milly Michaelson" by Thrice. It was quiet and beautiful and one of the few songs he could convince Alice to dance to without much effort.

Smirking, he got up from his chair and extended his hand.

"May I have this dance, my lady?" he asked.

Rolling her eyes, Alice nodded, setting her still burning cigarette in the ashtray. She took his hand and stood, allowing her body to sink against his as they began to sway together.

As they danced, he inhaled her scent, the mix of her perfume and the fresh cigarette smoke that now tried to overpower it. Sighing, he held her a little closer.

Lately, he had been entertaining an idea that he wasn't entirely sure Alice would approve of. They had been together for nearly eight months now, hardly spending a day apart. He was absolutely in love with her; she was an essential part of his life now. Months ago they had agreed that the thought of being without one another was truly terrifying, but there had been no talk of making their bond a bit more permanent. And, despite fear that she would disagree, he wanted to take the next step and agree to be hers and only hers for the rest of eternity.

"Alice," he whispered, rubbing little circles on her hand with his thumb. "You're never going to leave me are you?"

Quirking an eyebrow, she met his eyes, a smile trying to hide her disbelief that he had even asked that question.

"Of course not," she giggled, shaking her head at the absurdity of the question. "What would ever make you think that I would?"

"Nothing," he insisted. "I've just been thinking."

"About what?"

"The future, our future. I can't see myself without you."

With a sigh of mock exasperation, she rested her head against his shoulder.

"I love you and you know it," she mumbled against his shoulder. "But don't tell me you're started to think about having kids or something."

"Oh, no! Nothing like that. I just….can you picture yourself without me?"

For a moment she considered this, but quickly shook her head no.

"Good," he said approvingly. "And I love you too…more than you can imagine."

"If you're trying to start another one of those stupid 'I love you more' wars I will physically hurt you," she teased.

"Oh, I'd like to see you try," he challenged with a smirk.

"Maybe after this," she shrugged. "And, for the record, I definitely love you more."

Though he thought he knew better, he couldn't help taking the bait. The song ended and their swaying slowed. He stood there for a moment, staring into her eyes before the mischief-maker within took hold and he couldn't help teasing her.

"I don't think so," he chuckled. "I definitely love you more!"

Rolling her eyes, she smacked his shoulder lightly.

"See?" he grinned. "If you loved me like I love you, you wouldn't resort to violence!"

"John, you are such a shit!" she laughed, hitting him again, slightly harder this time.

"Don't start that, you won't like how it ends."

"What are you going to do? Spank me?"

There was a glint in her eyes that spoke volumes of her intentions. With a smirk, he loomed over her, eyes boring down into hers.

"If you continue to be so naughty, I just might have to."

"Be careful, I just might want you to. I might even enjoy it."

The last sentence was a whisper accompanied by a telling wink. Sliding the door open, he motioned for her to step inside. He wanted her badly and knew that if he so much as kissed her on the balcony, they wouldn't make it inside.

"What about the wine?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We'll get it later," he said, voice low.

Seeming to catch on, she stepped inside, watching him as he slid the door shut behind him. By the time the curtain was drawn, she was already slipping out of her clothes.

"Did I tell you to undress?" he inquired, seeing the arousal in her eyes at his words.

"Since when do I listen to you?" she challenged, taking a step forward and beginning to unbutton his shirt.

Taking her wrists in his hands, he shook his head. There was a fire building in his gut, craving her complete submission.

"You don't," he growled, eyes boring into hers intensely. "But we're going to fix that."

Excited, she grinned.

"Do you think you're going to make me?" she giggled.

"By any means necessary."

"Oh, I like where this is going."

Breaking his dominant façade for a moment, he couldn't keep himself from laughing.

"Will you at least pretend to be intimidated, love?" he chuckled. "The game is no fun unless you play along."

"But it's much more fun if you make me," she replied with a grin.

"Have it your way, then."

In one swift movement, he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, dropping her roughly onto the bed. Grabbing her jeans, he unbuttoned them and all but ripped them off her, right along with her panties.

Surprised, she stared up at him, face flushed with arousal.

"Roll over," he commanded. "On your hands and knees."

Immediately, she obeyed, offering him her pale, round bottom. His hand made contact with a delightfully loud smack, making her gasp. A pink handprint was left behind and he gave the other buttock a matching one, rubbing the tender skin to soothe it afterward.

It amused him that he could already see the wet evidence of her arousal beginning to seep between her legs.

"My, you're wet," he grinned. "Does this really arouse you so much?"

The next slap received a surprised cry and he assumed that was a yes. He gave her a few more, and soon she was panting, little whimpers falling from her lips with each slap. However, much as he enjoyed torturing her, it was driving him crazy. He wanted her, needed to be inside her, and couldn't take much more teasing.

Undoing his pants, he let them drop to the floor.

"Are you ready for me, Alice?"

"Yes. Please. Fuck me."

Her voice was soft and breathy and he entered her slowly, enjoying the sensation of her walls gripping him, taking him in inch by inch. His next thrust was not so gentle and she moaned as he began to increase his pace.

Her hands dug into the sheets as she gasped and moaned in pleasure, muttering almost incoherently about how good it felt. Closing his eyes, he threw his head back and began to take her harder and faster, his climax nearing quicker than anticipated.

Gripping her hips, he did his best to fight it off for as long as possible, despite the tell tale clenching of her orgasm nearing. However, his efforts were futile, and soon they were both climaxing, groaning and spewing "I love you's" as they collapsed onto the bed.

For a moment they lay there, panting and attempting to recover as their muscles relaxed.

"That was fast," Alice laughed, curling up next to him.

"Yeah," he panted. "But it was fucking great."

"You should punish me more often."

Barking a laugh, he kissed her on the forehead.

"Only if you're really naughty," he snickered.

"I'm going to have to be naughty more often."

* * *

"Alice," he called from the art room the next morning. "Can you please get me the box of paints out of my closet?"

"I'm making coffee!" she called back.

"You don't have to babysit the coffee pot," he retorted. "Please, darling? It will only take a second."

Rolling her eyes, Alice wandered down the hall to the bedroom. She threw open the closet door, gazing up at the top shelf and the numerous boxes that occupied it.

"Which box is it?" she asked.

"The big plastic one!"

Naturally, the only "big plastic one" was stacked underneath a few other, smaller boxes. Grumbling, she grabbed the whole pile down. Luckily, none of the boxes were too heavy and came down with relative ease. Setting the other boxes down, she made to grab the bigger box of paints.

That was when the label on one of the smaller cardboard boxes caught her eye. "New Mexico" was all it read. Guessing that this box contained the astronomy books he had mentioned he owned, she opened the box.

However, what she found was definitely not books. It was an outfit of some kind, made out of mostly leather and expertly stitched. There appeared to be a pair of boots as well, and a forest green wool cape neatly folded beneath the leather garment. On top of the pile of clothes there was a silver ring with a giant glimmering emerald in the middle. It looked medieval, with its thick band that swirled around in large silver chords, like a giant snake encircling the stone.

"What the fuck?" she muttered, picking up the ring to examine it closer.

It felt as though an electric shock hit her when she picked up the ring, coursing through her like a mad surge of power. Cursing, she dropped the ring back in the box. After a bit of debate, she picked it up again, this time a bit more cautiously.

Footsteps echoed down the hall as John came down to the bedroom.

"It can't be that hard to find the only-" He stopped midsentence when he noticed her kneeling on the floor beside the box.

"Where did you find that?" he asked, sounding tense.

"It was on top of the box of paints," she defended. "What is it?"

"It's the stuff I was found with," he sighed, kneeling beside her. "I was wearing this."

"What were you, some kind of superhero?" she teased.

"Maybe," he shrugged, not completely dismissing the idea.

"It's a cool ring, though," she pointed out, allowing him to take it.

When he picked it up, it seemed to give him the same brief shock it had given her. However, rather than surprising him, he seemed to expect it, embrace it. That odd glowing green color returned to his eyes as he looked over at her.

"I should wear it more often," he decided aloud, slipping it onto his finger. "I don't really know why I ever stopped."

"It's a really pretty stone," Alice agreed.

He blinked, shaking his head and looking at her as if he had forgotten she was there for a moment.

"Would you like something like it?" he inquired.

"Yes, of course!" Alice enthused. "You know emeralds are my favorite."

Suddenly she realized the implications that his question could hold and had to keep herself from asking him about it. He couldn't be suggesting that he was thinking about getting her an engagement ring.

"Why do you ask?" she sighed, looking up at him warily.

"No reason," he shrugged. "But I have to get back to work. I have to have these pieces in by Monday."

And so he retrieved that paints and disappeared back down the hall to the art room, leaving Alice to consider whether or not she actually thought John was crazy enough to marry her.

* * *

Before they knew it, New Years Eve was upon them, bringing about the most stressful week John had ever experienced, leading up to his day of triumph.

The Stark Foundation was sending over a limousine to pick he and Alice up at 6:30 sharp, which he found incredibly exciting. By 5, he was already in his suit, complete with a long waistcoat and a black and green scarf that Alice had picked out when they had gone shopping a few days previous.

Of course, Alice took a bit longer in getting around and was just finishing up her make-up when the limo arrived.

"I don't do dress-up well without Heather," Alice defensively said as he took her hand and led her to the elevator.

Normally, Heather got her ready for every social function she went to. However, because her best friend was out of town visiting her parents, Alice was left to her own devices. Honestly, she didn't think she looked too terrible. Her auburn hair was curled, a bit of make-up was done to bring out her eyes, and she had a stunning blue ball gown that hugged her just enough to accentuate her figure without making her look too plump.

"I think you look absolutely stunning, darling," he assured her and received a quick kiss in return.

Together they slipped into the backseat of the limo, Alice feeling as though she were dreaming. It was all very surreal, the formal attire, the limo ride, the fact she was going to an art exhibition that her boyfriend was featured in; none of it felt like her real life.

"Are you excited, darling?" he asked, fidgeting nervously with his overcoat.

"Of course I am," she grinned. "I am so proud of you."

And she was. In the months she had known him, he had grown so much as an artist. It was like watching a flower as it blossomed. Now he was in full bloom and the most elegantly beautiful thing she had ever seen.

"I'm so glad you're here to share this with me," he said honestly, taking her face in his hands and kissing her.

It was deep and passionate and honest, but didn't last long.

"Don't want the driver telling Mr. Stark we were misbehaving," he whispered mischievously. "But tonight…" He ran a hand up her thigh, squeezing it suggestively.

"Tonight we have no choice but to celebrate your success," she smirked. "I'll show just how proud of you I am."

"Oh, don't start talking like that right now, love," he begged, letting out a shaky breath. "You'll get me all worked up right before our grand entrance."

She could see in his eyes that lingering lust and it promised an amazing night lay ahead for them.

Tenderly, he kissed her as the limo came to a halt in front of the museum. The driver got out and came around to open the door. As it opened, Alice could hear the roar of a crowd outside, making her stomach turn a bit.

"Come, darling," he grinned. "This is going to be fun!"

Wrapping her coat around her shoulders, she followed John onto to the walkway, waving feebly at the photographers as they made their way toward the museum steps.


	10. Valiant

**Author Note: Thank you all for reading, reviewing, following, favoriting, and messaging me. You guys are the best. Please keep the reviews coming. They are my life juice.**

**I hope this chapter makes all of you as happy as it makes me. We need some happiness because the next chapter is going to destroy us all with feels.**

**Also, this chapter works best when you listen to "Valiant" by the Spill Canvas as you listen to it. **

* * *

_"What do you say, would you marry me today? The moon will gush all inside out and my nightmares will go away. What do you say, would you devote yourself today? Like riding out a sinking ship as it lowers into the bay. Please stay." -The Spill Canvas "Valiant"_

* * *

"There you are, John!"

An impossibly thin, dark haired woman came bounding through the crowd of people, heels clacking loudly against the floor as she went. Upon seeing her, John smiled, pulling the woman into a quick, friendly embrace.

"Janel!" he smiled. "Pleasure to see you, as always. Have you met my darling Alice yet?"

"I don't think so," Alice said, extending her hand to the woman. "I'm Alice McCormick."

The woman gave Alice arms a wary glance before taking her hand and shaking it uncertainly.

"I'm Janel Lewis," the woman replied. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Janel is the museum curator," John explained, wrapping an arm around Alice's shoulders.

"You're doing a fantastic job," Alice gushed, looking around them. "This gallery is amazing. "I love the way it is set up as a journey through the stars."

"Well," Janel beamed. "It was all John's idea. He is the real genius here."

The exhibit was quite impressive. It started out with some of John's more obscure work; a few nebulas, shooting stars, clusters of planets. But then it began to focus, a single planet at first, then the multicolored landscape, before eventually focusing on the beautiful scenes and sprawling castles that he had illustrated.

"You're too kind," he replied, shaking his head. "I just threw together a few paintings."

"He's so modest!" Janel chuckled. "I love him."

"Me too," Alice said pointedly.

It wasn't that she necessarily disliked Janel, but she felt the woman was hitting on John a little too blatantly, and, frankly, that didn't sit well with her.

"Of course you do," the curator laughed. "You two are adorable together!"

Taking a sip of her Champagne, Alice looked about the room. Everyone present looked like they had far too much money to be healthy. All of the suits and gowns were obviously designer; making Alice feel awkward in her gown that she had once viewed as beautiful. Of course, what could she expect from people who likely donated more money to the Stark Foundation annually than she could ever hope to make in her life.

And older gentleman approached them then, introducing himself to John as Gregory Flynn.

"Mister Flynn is the head of the Stark Foundation art committee," Janel explained. "He found your work beautiful."

"I can speak for myself, Miss Lewis," the old man good-naturedly chuckled. "But, yes, I do enjoy your work, Mister Walker. Fantastic, all of it."

"Thank you ever so much," John grinned. "And, please, call me John."

"I like this one," Gregory smiled. "Come on then, Johnny, let me introduce you to the big shots."

For most of the night, Alice found herself wandering around in the wake of John's charm. Though she was enjoying watching him interact with the white collars, it was also incredibly boring. Plus, she had to put up with Janel being obnoxious and trying to shoehorn her way into all of John's conversations, while simultaneously hitting on him. Alice found it all disgustingly mind-numbing. She never said much, simply smiling and shaking hands with the old men, who told John how beautiful she was, despite the dirty looks they gave her arms. Apparently, even in the art world, tattoos were frowned upon in high society.

About an hour into the opening, there was a commotion at the door. Alice secretly hoped it would be something like Heather's Stuttgart incident, where the crazy guy had attacked one of the important old men and then proceeded to make everyone kneel to him. At least then she could go home early if she lived through it.

"I didn't think he'd actually show up," Janel breathed, taking a few steps toward the crowd gathering at the door.

"Didn't think who would actually show up?" Alice asked, trying to be heard over the babble of the excited crowd.

"Tony Stark," the other woman sighed, rushing to join the crowd.

John and Alice hung back as the crowd parted and Tony Stark came waltzing in, Pepper Potts at his heels. Looking like a king, he strutted into the center of the room, waving and smiling as he turned to face the dreamy-eyed onlookers.

He made a subtle motion and one of museum staff members came running over with a microphone. Giving them a nod of appreciation, he gave it a tap to test the PA system. Smiling at the echoing noise it made, he began to speak.

"Yes, yes, I know I'm late," he grinned, earning a hearty chuckle from the crowd. "We had to stop for dinner because I was hungry." Again, the crowd chuckled. "Pepper is incredibly excited to be here, and I'm pretty thrilled too. I want to thank all of you for coming and supporting the Stark Foundation. And, of course, I want to congratulate John Walker on his ability to paint."

Laughing, John gave a small wave and received a thunderous applause in response.

"At least he isn't being as self-absorbed as usual," Alice whispered to John, who had to cover his snicker with a feigned sneeze.

"Look, I want to keep this short," grinned the billionaire. "Because we're all here to enjoy art, not listen to me run my mouth. Well, let's be honest, we are, but I'm not in the mood to run my mouth. So, instead, I'm going to turn it over to the guy we're actually here to appreciate… you know, the one that isn't me, John Walker."

Looking surprised, and maybe slightly panicked, John took a few steps forward.

"Don't be shy, man, get over here," Tony insisted.

Alice gave him a little push forward and John quickly made his way to the center of the room, accepting the microphone from Tony and shaking his hand with a winning smile.

"We'll talk later," Tony winked, clapping the artist on the shoulder as he stepped away, giving a light applause and motioning for the crowd to do the same.

Clearing his throat, John beamed, nodding at the crowd as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

"Thank you," he earnestly smiled. "Thank you all so much for coming here and supporting me and my work. I honestly didn't think I would be making a speech, so I apologize for my lack of preparedness."

The crowd laughed and he smirked, seeming to gain a bit of confidence.

"I never imagined I would get this sort of recognition when I started," he went on. "I honestly thought I was at the height of my career when I sold my first painting to a coffee shop, but it seems I was mistaken."

Giving them all a winning smile, he ran an agitated hand through his dark mess of curls.

"I suppose a few thanks are in order," he chuckled. "Of course, my deepest gratitude goes out to he Stark Foundation, Janel, all of the other great people who work at this fantastic museum and helped me set up the exhibit, and, of course, Tony Stark and Pepper Potts for showing up and giving us all this pleasant surprise. Last, but certainly not least, I need to thank my darling Alice for everything she has done. For putting up with me and all of my madness, the late nights spent looking at the stars, and the undying love she has shown me."

For a moment he paused, fumbling for something in his pocket.

"I was going to save this for later," he sighed. "But I think now is as good a time as any. Alice, will you come here, darling?"

Heat rushed to Alice's face as the crowd's attention turned to her. Heart fluttering in her chest, she crossed to the middle of the room, coming to stand beside John. It terrified her that she felt she knew exactly what was about to happen, and even more so that she knew exactly how she was going to respond.

"My sweet Alice," he smiled. "You are so beautiful tonight. I've been waiting for so long to ask you this…"

Taking her hand in his, he took a deep breath.

"You are the most amazing woman I've ever met," he said sincerely. "You are so full of passion, life, and love. Most of all love." Slowly, knelt down on one knee, still holding her hand. "Would you do me the honor of sharing that love with me for the rest of eternity…as my wife?"

From his pocket, he pulled a small, black velvet box. Popping it open, he revealed a dazzling emerald, which matched the one on his hand, but it was smaller and more feminine.

It felt as if Alice's heart had lodged itself in her throat. She took a deep breath, trying to choke done the happy sob that trying to escape.

"Yes," she whispered, feeling the tears start to stream down her face despite attempts to keep them back. "Of course!"

His face became consumed by a smile and he slipped the ring onto her finger. Getting to his feet, he pulled her to him and kissed her. The roar of the crowd was deafening, a mixture of "awws" and whistles and thunderous applause.

"My night is officially perfect!" he shouted, pumping his fist into the air.

Cheering and applauding, the crowd rushed up to congratulate them. They were passed from person to person, the happy faces all mixing into a blur.

Finally, they made their way to the bar, where Tony Stark was extending a hand and congratulating them. Pepper Potts pulled them each into a quick hug,

"I definitely think your speech blew mine out of the water," Tony smirked. "You know, pulling the engagement card and all."

John laughed, putting an arm around Alice.

"What can I say?" he shrugged. "She's quite a catch. I had to ask her somewhere that I knew should wouldn't be able to say no."

"I wouldn't have said no!" Alice objected.

"Well, who could say no to being a queen, right?" Tony asked, earning a confused look from both of them.

"He doesn't have that much money," Alice snorted. "But he certainly treats me like a queen."

Quirking an eyebrow, Tony turned to John.

"Well, she certainly deserves the royal treatment," he chuckled. "But I can only do so much as an artist."

Pepper groaned, giving Tony a not-so-subtle elbow to the ribs.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "Tony has a knack for taunting people he's just met."

"I noticed," Alice shrugged, not as phased by his arrogance as she feared she would be.

"But we're both very happy for you!" Pepper insisted. "In fact, I was just telling Tony that I think we should treat you to dinner tomorrow night."

"You really don't need to-" John began, but Tony held up a hand and cut him short.

"It will be my treat," the billionaire said smoothly. "Pepper here is a really big fan of your art. We wanted to talk to you about buying some of it."

"You put on this whole exhibition," John sighed. "You've been too kind already. You can just have-"

"No!" Pepper said firmly. "We're going to take you to dinner."

Resigned, John accepted the offer.

"Excellent," Tony smirked. "We'll pick you up tomorrow night around seven. Now, if you'll excuse us, Pepper and I are going to go admire your work."

After again shaking their hands and exchanging pleasantries, the rich couple headed off into the museum.

Still a bit shocked, Alice turned to John.

"Did Tony Stark really just invite us to dinner?" she gasped.

"I think he did," John mused, sounding equally shocked. "But, more importantly, you agreed to be my wife."

This sent a little thrill through Alice's stomach and she turned to John, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yes I did," she proudly stated. "Care to go home and celebrate?"

"Oh, darling," he grinned, giving her a quick kiss. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

The drive home was excruciating, the two of them knowing full well what was going to happen the moment they entered the apartment. It was difficult for John to keep his hands to himself as they pulled up to the apartment, John slipping the limo driver a tip as they slipped out of the vehicle. After practically running to the elevator, their lips crashed together the moment the doors slid shut. Blindly, John hit the button for his floor.

As the elevator ascended, their lips never parted, John doing his best to restrain the urge to start taking her clothes off.

A bell dinged lightly as they reached his floor, the two of them darting into the hall and straight for his door. As they stumbled inside, John began undoing the zipper of her dress, trying to get her undressed as quickly as possible.

He was so delighted to finally have her as his own, promised to him for the rest of eternity. And he also wanted nothing more than to fuck her senseless to celebrate.

Slipping out of her dress, Alice began to loosen his tie, pulling it over his head and beginning to undo the buttons on his shirt. A trail of clothes followed them to the kitchen, where John had left some of his paint supplies on the counter. Carelessly, he knocked them aside, accidentally spilling a bottle of blue paint as he picked up Alice's naked body and sat her on the counter.

Attempting to get a grip on the counter, despite the wet paint, she slid forward a bit, offering herself to him. Already she was practically dripping; hot, wet, and ready to be penetrated.

Dropping to his knees, John kissed his way up her thighs, sucking lightly at her pale skin. Little moans fell from her lips as his breath tickled her most sensitive area. Grinning slyly, he flicked his tongue over her swollen clit, swirling circles over her sex as the taste of her lust began to saturate his taste buds.

"Fuck," she gasped, paint-covered fingertips entangling themselves in his hair.

Playfully he nipped at her clit, eliciting a delightful shriek as he began to suck at it. Her hips began to buck with his every touch, the sounds she made growing louder by the second.

"John," she moaned breathlessly. "Fuck me."

"Patience, darling," he replied, feeling paint coat his neck in wake of her trembling fingers.

Taking a bit of pity on her, he thrust two fingers into her before continuing to please her with his tongue. Her taste filled his mouth as she gasped and writhed in ecstasy. As her orgasm neared, she gripped the counter, hands slipping on the growing puddle of blue acrylic.

"If you don't fuck me soon," she panted. "I'm going to-"

But he was already on his feet, sliding his hands through the paint before pulling her onto his throbbing arousal. Rubbing the slick paint onto her back, he did his best to hold her tight as he filled her completely.

Setting a steady pace, he took her face into his hands, leaving streaks of blue there as he kissed her fiercely, the taste of her still on his tongue.

"That paint is really cold," she giggled, giving him matching marks on his cheeks as she moved her hands to grip his shoulders.

"I know," he chuckled, nipping at her lip.

Running his hands down her back, he held her hips tight and began to increase his pace. Her cries grew louder mixing with his own breathless sounds.

"Are getting close, darling?" he asked as he felt his climax near.

"Yes," she groaned, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Good. Then scream for me Alice. Tell me you're mine."

Her icy blue eyes met his and she gritted her teeth to hold back her orgasm for a few more moments.

"I love you, John," she groaned. "I'm- mmmm. Fuck!"

Their shared cries of pleasure filled the room as he spilled into her and she spasmed around him, the rest of her promises lost in a jumble of curses.

When he was finished, he rested his head against her shoulder, leaving hovering kisses on her neck and shoulder.

"My darling Alice," he sighed. "I cannot wait to make you my wife. Mrs. Walker has quite a ring to it."

Giggling, she nodded, playing with his messy black curls, which were now caked in blue paint.

"But you're only allowed to call me that when you're incredibly happy with me," she smirked.

"Well, then, shall we get cleaned up, Mrs. Walker?"

"We're not married yet."

Shaking his head, he chuckled, helping her off the counter and smiling down at her paint-covered face.

"I don't care, quite frankly," he snickered, kissing her. "I'll call you Mrs. Walker whenever I damn well please."

Shrugging, she seemed to decide to allow this.

"We really should get cleaned up, though," she pointed out. "Before the paint dries."

"Lead the way, darling."

* * *

"So, do you really think it's him?" Pepper asked, sitting down on the bed of their suite.

"I know it is," Tony sighed, pouring himself a drink at from the mini bar.

"Did you tell his brother you found him?"

Miserably, Tony nodded.

He had been feeling sour ever since he had met John Walker and his lovely bride-to-be. Searching for the God of Mischief had been fun at first, the anticipation of being able to expose him for what he really was bringing Tony a smug sort of excitement.

However, when he found the man he knew to have previously been Loki, he didn't find an exiled god at all. No, instead he had met a man who was madly in love, the excitement of his recent engagement radiating from his entire being.

Not to mention his fiancée, a tattooed beauty completely smitten with the man she believed to merely be an artist.

And when Tony had mentioned royalty, eluding to Loki's dark past, neither of them had batted an eye. Either John Walker was an incredibly good actor, or he legitimately had no memory of his past.

"I don't say this often, Pepper," he groaned, staring into the glass of whiskey in his hand. "But I think I've made a terrible mistake."


	11. The Great Destroyer

Author Note: I'm so glad you guys enjoyed the last chapter. I apologize for my slow update. The next few are pound to also be slow because school is ruining my life.

I am so excited for this chapter. Is everyone ready for the return of Loki? If not, prepare yourselves!

I would like to thank Sally for being an editing goddess. She is fixing here to fix all my grammatical errors that I no longer have time to fix because I'm too busy writing essays and taking quizzes.

Please leave me a review. *puppy eyes* It means a lot!

* * *

Heather was not an idiot. In fact, she was a rather brilliant grad student who was almost done with a thesis on the classical influence on modern dubstep. It was almost comical, seeing as the thesis started as a joke to piss off Alice, who had a special sort of dislike for the growing genre. The thesis had taken nearly three years to research and was just finally coming together, but in that time Heather had become quite good at research and incredibly observant.

Thus, on the day that she first met John Walker, she thought she recognized him instantly. One doesn't forget the man who crashed their first big gig with a string quartet by attacking one of the museum proprietors and forced the entire crowd to kneel before him in the streets. Somehow, Heather had avoided kneeling, the instinct to run further into the building rather than outside somehow paying off. She had seen them though, from the stairs of the museum, all kneeling before the dark haired man with the horned helm. And John could have been the man's twin, if not the man himself.

At least, she was quite sure he was, initially at least. Then, of course, she spent time with him, watched he and Alice fall in love, and had almost written off her initial aversion to him as an overactive imagination. That is, until a couple months ago when he had nearly attacked Brendan Kelly at the House of Blues, simply because the rock star had given Alice a peck on the cheek. In that moment, when rage had filled his eyes and he had sneered in that very distinct way, Heather knew it to be the same man.

However, she had no way of proving it. Other than his little outburst, John always seemed like quite the gentleman. Despite the research she had done on the Stuttgart incident, she knew nothing more than what the internet could offer. Somewhere she had found an article claiming that the man had said he was Loki of Asgard, the God of Mischief himself. As far as Heather could tell, John was no god.

At this point, all Heather knew was that she had a bad feeling about John Walker and there was a distinct possibility that her best friend could be in danger.

Speaking of Alice, she had yet to call, which was incredibly unlike her after a date night. Of course, seeing as Heather had been driving home the previous night, she probably wouldn't have called anyway.

As if on cue, Heather's phone buzzed. Feeling something like relief, Heather answered.

"Last night was the best night ever!" Alice squealed. "You'll never guess what happened!"

"I was driving last night," Heather snorted. "So, it was definitely not the best night ever."

"Yeah, I thought you weren't going to be back until the end of the week."

"Would you want to stay with my parents for an entire week?"

"Touche."

They shared a laugh; Heather trying to defend her parents, but failing miserably in her fit of laughter.

"And let me guess," Heather snickered. "You guys had awesome post-art exhibition sex."

"No, you pervert!" the other girl laughed. "Well…yes, actually. But that's not the point! He popped the question! Heather, he asked me to marry him!"

Heather felt bile rise in her throat. A month ago, this would have been great news, but with her growing feelings of unease about the man in question, it was difficult to be excited.

"That's great!" she said, trying to sound enthusiastic, but Alice saw right through her.

"What's wrong?" Alice asked without missing a beat. "I thought you'd be happy for me."

"I am happy for you!" Heather insisted. "I'm just really surprised. You guys have only been together…"

"For almost a year!" Alice interrupted.

Had it really been that long? She felt kind of bad for not realizing.

"I'm sorry, Al," Heather sighed. "I'm stressing out about my thesis today. I'm really happy for you guys. Tell John congratulations too. Do you want to do something tonight to celebrate?"

For a moment there was silence on the other end of the line.

"I would love to," Alice groaned. "But that's sort of the other thing I called to tell you. Tony Stark was at the museum last night. He invited us to dinner tonight."

Though disappointed that she wouldn't be seeing Alice in person to congratulate her quite yet, Heather was admittedly relieved that she wouldn't have to face Alice's now husband-to-be with all of these ill feelings floating around in her head.

"Tony Stark?" Heather repeated. "Do I know him?"

"Well, probably not personally," Alice chuckled. "But you've certainly seen him before. You know, Iron Man?"

It took actual effort to keep her jaw from dropping.

"How the hell did you convince Tony Stark to take you to dinner?" Heather gaped.

"It was Pepper's idea," Alice shrugged. "She wants to buy some of John's work."

"That's…wow…"

"I know, right? John is like…beside himself."

"I'm sure he is. Dude, Pepper Potts wants to buy his art. That's…can you convince her to buy my thesis?"

Laughing, Alice agreed.

"But I'll only sell it for a price," she grinned. "Nothing less than a million."

"Deal," Heather agreed. "Though I may settle for half a mil if they agree to let me borrow the Iron Man suit for the weekend."

"What would you do with the Iron Man suit?"

"Does it matter? It would just be cool to have."

"Fair enough."

"But speaking of my thesis, I need to go work on it. With the shop being closed, I think I might be able to finish a couple of pages if I'm lucky."

"You left a couple of your theory books in the office again, by the way, along with that Deadmau5 album. You realize he doesn't really count as dubstep, right?"

"His music fits the conditions of the thesis. Stop trying to convince yourself it's not dubstep just because you like him."

"I'm not making excuses! Hey, are we still on for coffee tomorrow?"

"Just like every Sunday. Don't be late again, okay?"

"I promise not to be late. And I'll see you then. Wait 'til you see my ring, it's so gorgeous!"

They said their farewells and hung up, Heather still feeling a bit sour about the whole situation. Things had escalated in a way that she had not expected. It was one thing when John was just Alice's boyfriend. In fact, knowing Alice and her issues with commitment, it was surprising that she had agreed to get married in the first place.

That gave her pause for a moment. She knew Alice, knew that her friend would never do anything of this nature unless she was absolutely sure it was the right path. Perhaps she had misjudged John Walker, perhaps he really was just a nice guy who had been drinking and had a bad night when he freaked out at Brendan.

Deciding to take the high road and convince herself of this, Heather opened the door to the shop and headed upstairs to Alice's apartment.

After bounding upstairs, she scoured the fridge and cupboards for a snack, but found nothing of substance. Making her way through the kitchen, she saw that the piano was actually open and there was a book of music on the stand.

Good, she thought. It's been a while since Alice played. Maybe John was inspiring her after all.

By the time she reached the office, she was beginning to legitimately think she had misjudged Alice's fiancé. Perhaps she had just been jealous. After all, Alice was spending a considerable amount of time with John, which had meant that Heather got to spend a considerably smaller amount of time with her best friend.

And that's when she saw the painting.

It was hanging over the desk, looking innocent enough. Except the subject matter was all too familiar for Heather. She could recognize the bifrost anywhere, especially when it had what was obviously meant to be Asgard connected to it.

Picking up her phone, she sent Alice a quick text.

_How much does John know about Norse Mythology?_

The response was almost instant.

_Not a ton. He's really disappointingly unfamiliar with a lot of it._

_Does he realize he painted you the bifrost?_

This reply took a bit longer.

_No._

Heather's gut churned. Fuck the high road. She needed to get a hold of Tony Stark. Maybe the articles claiming that Loki Laufeyson had been in Stuttgart weren't so wrong after all.

* * *

"I just really don't know about this, Pepper," Tony sighed, slipping into the limo. "We're taking a vengeful god out to dinner."

"Except he's not a vengeful god right now," Pepper pointed out. "He's an artist. And we don't even know if he is Loki."

"Seriously? The guy is his spitting image! And the way he talks? I would recognize that smug voice anywhere."

"Smug? Tony, the guy was humble and-"

"I just know, okay?"

Looking grumpy, Pepper crossed her arms and gazed out the window as the limo pulled into traffic. For a while she couldn't bring herself to even speak to the billionaire at her side.

"Just tell me you haven't told his brother," Pepper begged finally.

Tony's silence spoke volumes and she did her best not to be too angry with him.

"I really hope you didn't tell him where we're going," she said at length.

Again, she was met with silence.

"Tony! He's supposed to be marrying that girl. If Thor finds him…"

"He'll do absolutely nothing! If Loki really doesn't know who he is, meeting Thor will do absolutely nothing."

"Unless it jogs his memory somehow."

"That won't happen."

"I just-"

"Pepper, did you forget that we're talking about the guy who almost destroyed New York City with an army of aliens a few years back? That I almost died saving the city from his army of lizard things?"

"Is that what this is about? Are you trying to get even with a guy who doesn't even remember any of that? A guy that we're not even sure is Loki!"

"Well when you put it like that…"

The limo came to a halt in a roundabout outside a tall apartment building. Tony looked up at the driver over his sunglasses.

"I don't mean to interrupt," the man said. "But we've arrived at your…guest's residence."

"Can you go ring for them, Robert?" Pepper requested with a smile.

"Of course, Ms. Potts."

As the driver, Robert, went to fetch their dinner guests, Pepper turned sharply to Tony.

"You had better be on your best behavior," she threatened. "And I do not want to hear a single word about who you think he might be. Most importantly, there better not be any Norse gods suddenly showing up to jog memories, got it?"

The ferocity in her eyes had him uncharacteristically speechless. Not daring to argue, he looked out the window, where Robert was now descending the steps with John Walker and his lovely bride-to-be in tow. Alice was talking candidly about something, crayon red hair blowing wildly in the cold winter breeze.

As the driver opened the door, they thanked him and slid inside.

"Wow your hair is red," Tony commented, making Alice turn crimson.

"It was an accident," she sighed. "I'm an idiot and thought the box didn't mean it when it said fire red."

"I still think you look lovely," John smiled, taking her hand in his.

Tony had to admit, he was a gentleman. Even if he had been a vengeful god in his former life, he was a legitimately nice person now. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to let his brother find him.

"Do you guys like dancing?" he asked suddenly, earning a confused look from Pepper. "I heard there's a great club down on Lake Michigan Drive."

"That sounds fantastic," John agreed.

"But we haven't eaten," Pepper objected.

"We can pick up something on the way," Tony shrugged. "Hey, uh, Rob? Can you take us to that club? I think it's called Craze, or Crush, or…something. And stop somewhere for take out on the way?"

Robert nodded as the car pulled out of the driveway.

"Tony Stark likes take-out," Alice mused. "Who would have thought?"

"Believe me," Pepper laughed. "Tony is really good at breaking stereotypes."

"You're flattering me Pepper!" Tony grinned. "I like it. You should keep doing it."

Laughing, Pepper gave him a light smack on the arm.

"Ow," he whined. "She hit me. You guys saw that right? That's sexual harassment. I could sue you."

"Do you really want to get me started on sexual harassment, Mr. Stark?" Pepper countered.

"You two are a couple aren't you?" Alice asked observantly.

Looking baffled, Tony took off the sunglasses he had been wearing.

"Not publicly," Pepper shrugged.

"Pepper!" Tony scolded. "You're not supposed to…"

"She knew anyway," Pepper defended.

"How did you know?" Tony asked, looking over at Alice.

Blushing, Alice shrugged.

"The way you interact," she said dismissively. "It's kind of obvious. You're flirting. I just…wondered if there was something there or if you hadn't picked up on it yet. Really, you're supposed to be a genius, Mr. Stark. I thought you would pick up on that kind of thing."

"Sorry," John put in hurriedly. "Alice is kind of astute when it comes to picking up on these things."

"Don't be sorry," Pepper insisted. "It was just…surprising."

"It's not like you guys are obvious about it," Alice shrugged. "Especially not in public. I just…you were flirting and…"

"That is an awesome ring you've got there, John," Tony interrupted, making an obvious effort to turn the conversation away from his love life. "Where did you get it?"

Shrugging, John took the emerald ring from his finger and handed it to Tony.

"No idea," he said honestly. "I was found in a ditch in New Mexico with it. I don't remember any of my life prior to the last couple years."

Pepper gave Tony a look that he tried hard to ignore, turning his attention to the ring. It had an incredibly unique look about it, obviously Asgardian by the look of the metal. He couldn't help thinking it was something that Thor would recognize instantly if he showed him.

"So…you could have been anything before a couple of years ago?" he ventured.

"I suppose," the former-god replied.

"Like…an angry super villain sort of anything, or just regular anything?"

Throwing his head back, John let out a hearty laugh.

"I'm pretty sure I would know it if I was previously a super villain" he laughed. "That sort of power doesn't just disappear. So, I suppose regular anything."

"Well, that's boring," the billionaire teased, handing the ring back. "But the ring is really cool."

"I'm sure you're just looking for a new foe to fight in that Iron Man suit of yours," John smirked. "And I'm sorry to disappoint."

"We've got the technology. We could make you a super villain."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I've got a wedding to plan. I'll have my hands full for a while. Also, I'm rather fond of not getting seriously injured."

"Well, if you ever change your mind, let me know."

Though he hated to admit it, Tony could tell John had no idea who he used to be. It made him glad he had decided to change the location of their little dinner party to the club. Hopefully Thor wouldn't be able to find them there.

On the way to their destination, they stopped and got Chinese take-out from a place that Alice highly recommended. The food was fantastic, the conversation stayed positive, and Tony found that he was legitimately enjoying himself. John and Pepper arranged a deal for her to buy some of the work that he had put in the museum after the month long exhibition ended, and they agreed to do dinner at an actual restaurant to make the deal official.

When they finally arrived at the club, Tony had practically forgotten that he was entertaining the former God of Mischief. They had drinks in the VIP lounge before heading to the dance floor. Tony had to admit, he was not the best dancer, but he enjoyed the feeling of the bass beating in his chest as "Starships" by Nicki Minaj blasted through the speakers. He danced with Pepper a bit, then Alice and a few other girls, knowing that he had to keep up appearances.

After a while, he excused himself to the bathroom, leaving John to dance with the girls.

It was a fantastic night, and he was incredibly grateful that he hadn't brought down the wrath of Thor on John Walker. It was obvious that he was Loki, but he had no recollection of his past life, and obviously was enjoying his new life and love. If Tony Stark had ever done a good deed in his life, it was leaving the two of them to enjoy their life in peace.

As he headed back to the bar, he was stopped by a girl in her mid-twenties.

"You're Tony Stark, right?" the girl asked.

"Who's asking?" he inquired, looking at the girl over the top of his sunglasses.

"My name's Heather," the girl replied. "And that girl over there with the tattoos? That's my best friend. I came to warn you, John Walker isn't who he says he is."

Looking between the girl and the man on the dance floor, he raised an eyebrow.

"Alice is your best friend?" he said skeptically.

"Yes," Heather insisted. "She's in danger. John is actually-"

"Loki the Trickster God?" Tony guessed. "Yeah, I know."

Looking surprised, Heather nodded.

"How did you-?" she began to ask, but Tony cut her off.

"The important question is how did you know?"

"Because I was in Stuttgart the night he attacked the museum. I saw you fight him."

"And is that what you want now? You want me to pull out the Iron Man suit and attack an innocent man who has no idea that he used to be Loki?"

"I want you to warn Alice. I want you to get John as far away from her as possible."

"If she's your best friend, why didn't you warn her?"

"Because I didn't know until today. You have to believe me, he does remember. Maybe not fully, but his memory is coming back. Think about it, the paintings are obviously of Asgard, he's been a controlling asshole to her more than a few times, he threatened to beat the shit out of a guy for-"

"Look, I'm gonna be honest here. If he acts the way you say he does, he really just sounds like he's kind of an asshole. I haven't seen him act like that, but I've only known him two days. All I know is that he's not a threat anymore."

"He's a threat to Alice. That's all that matters to me."

"Then you take care of it."

Heather opened her mouth to object, but was cut off by a commotion at the door.

"Oh, what now?" Tony groaned.

A group of security guards had just been thrown aside by a tall blonde man in armor. The red cape billowing behind the man made Tony recognize him instantly and he cursed under his breath.

"STARK!" the man bellowed. "YOU MISLEAD ME!"

"Who's that?" Heather asked, taking a few steps back.

"That would be Thor," Tony replied.

"The Thunder God?"

"Yep. That'd be him."

The music was still playing, even though most people had cleared the floor to get away from the Asgardian.

"WHERE IS MY BROTHER?" Thor demanded, now spotting Tony in the crowd and crossing to him. "YOU SAID HE WOULD BE WITH YOU!"

A confused looking John Walker came to stand beside Tony.

"Who's this?" he asked.

"You don't want to know," Tony insisted. "Just…get out of here John. Take Alice and get out of here."

But it was too late. Thor had seen him. Relief took Thor's face as he laid eyes on John.

"Brother," he sighed. "You are alive!"

"Who are you?" John whispered, stepping away from him.

"Do you not recognize me?"

"Look, I don't recognize a lot of people, but I can about guarantee we've never met."

"How can you say that, brother? Was the Allfather's spell really so powerful that your entire memory was erased?"

"Yes," Tony put in. "He doesn't remember anything."

"Tony? What's he talking about?"

"Don't worry about it, John. Just take Alice and run."

"Who is that guy, John?" Alice inquired, coming to stand beside her fiancé. "Do you know him?"

"He doesn't anymore," Tony replied. "Now, please, both of you get out of here."

"Why?"

"You're not going to like how this ends if you stay."

"He's right," Heather put in, grabbing Alice's arm and pulling her toward the door.

"What are you doing here?" Alice gasped, pulling her arm out of her friend's grip.

"Saving you," Heather replied. "I'll explain later."

"Enough of this nonsense!" Thor growled. "Brother, you are coming with me."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" John objected. "I'm not your brother."

Desperately, Tony tried to step between the god and John. What happened next, he wasn't really sure. It looked like Thor tried to put his hammer between Tony and his brother, but John tried to move toward Tony at the same time. Somehow, the ring seemed to connect with the hammer, sending John flying backward by some magical force. His flailing body connected with one of the speakers, bringing the noisy room into sudden silence.

"John!" Alice cried, breaking free of Heather's grasp and running to kneel beside her lover.

A faint green glowing came from the floor, slowly growing brighter as swirling green light began to erupt from the now broken stone on his ring. The light twisted and swirled in the air before turning and curling into the unconscious man's mouth like smoke. His body convulsed violently, eyes flying open and glowing a violent shade of emerald as the light filled him. A rushing sound filled the room, mixing with the alarmed gasps of the club patrons, and the screams of agony that were erupting from John's throat.

"Pepper," Tony said urgently. "I want you and Thor to get everyone out of here. Have the driver be ready to get you, Alice, and Heather to the airport ASAP, and get my briefcase."

"What are you going to do?" Pepper demanded.

"I'm going to help Thor fight off an angry god," he replied. "Now, please, hurry."

Never one to falter under pressure, Pepper did as she was told, trying to usher the group outside.

To Tony's relief, most of the crowd was gone by the time silence fell. From the floor, the dark haired man groaned, sitting up and rubbing his temples.

"John?" Alice whispered. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

Reaching out a shaking hand, she touched his shoulder lightly.

Instantly, his head snapped up, green eyes looking up at her dangerously.

"Do not touch me, girl," he hissed.

"John, what are you-"

"John?" the man snorted. "I am Loki of Asgard, and you will address me as your King!"

A soft golden glow radiated around the resurrected god. His suit was replaced by leather and metal armor, a horned helm appeared on his head, and a staff in his hand.

Alice jumped back, a mix of confusion and fear contorting her face. There were tears in her eyes as she began to back away.

"Brother, have care in what you-" Thor began to warn, but Loki hissed and he fell into silence.

"You," Loki growled. "You sent me here, took away my memories, my power, and now you have the gall to tell me how to react?"

"I did not do this to you."

But Loki was having none of it. With a burst of power he sent the Thunder God flying into the wall.

"John, please, stop!" Alice screamed.

"I told you, foolish girl, not to address me by that name," he growled, turning his attention to Alice.

Advancing toward her, he raised his staff.

And then was promptly knocked off his feet in a flash of light.

"Alice," Iron Man said urgently. "You might want to start running now."


	12. Kissing You Goodbye

Author Note: Holy shit, you guys! Talk about a response! Thank you all so much for the reviews, favorites, follows, and PM's. You're all fantastic.

I want to apologize for the shortness of the chapter and for how long it took to update. I am a full time student and I work as a supervisor, so I hardly have time to write. I hope to have the next chapter up in a week, but I make no actual promises. I thank you all so much for you patience.

I won't blather at you too much. Just know that this chapter will break your heart a little. Enjoy!

If you really want to sob while you read, go listen to "Kissing You Goodbye" by the Used, "What A Catch, Donnie" by Fall Out Boy, and "Parting of the Sensory" by Modest Mouse while you read. (Those were my inspiration songs this time around.)

* * *

_This must be what shell-shock feels like._

_Everything was slow. Nothing felt right. People were speaking, she knew they were because their lips were moving, but she didn't hear them. Hands gripped her shoulders and pulled her out of the club and into the terrified crowd on the street. Someone was guiding her toward the limo they had arrived in, but she couldn't be bothered to find out whom. She, Heather, and Pepper clambered into the limo and they began to pull away._

That's when sound started to process again.

"Where are we going?" Heather asked urgently.

"The airport," Pepper replied, her voice sounding tight.

"Why?"

"We have to get you two out of here. Get you somewhere safe."

"Is there anywhere that's safe from-"

Alice's eyes flickered over to Heather for the briefest of moments and she went quiet instantly.

"I don't know," Pepper sighed. "But Stark Tower is our best bet."

Things started moving at speed again as the limo gave a stomach turning lurch.

Pepper must have noticed Alice's eyes refocusing because she put what was meant to be a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"It's okay, honey," she offered encouragingly. "When Tony comes back we'll get this whole mess straightened out."

"He's going to kill him isn't he?" Alice whispered, words feeling foreign and unwelcome in her mouth.

Both of the other girls were silent, which Alice took to be a very bad sign.

"It wouldn't matter anyway," she grimaced. "John's already dead, isn't he? He's gone…that….thing replaced him."

"He's not dead," Heather attempted, but Alice was having none of it.

"You knew!" she accused. "You knew and you never warned me. You knew that this could happen, that he could turn…that he was…"

Words failed her, each attempt at speech bringing her deeper into the realization that John was gone, replaced by that monster that had appeared in his body. Her insides turned when she caught sight of the glinting ring on her finger, but she couldn't even manage to cry.

It hurt. The grief caused her physical pain, her insides turning at the mere thought of John's smiling face. She felt dry, ruined, and completely hollow.

How the fuck could he give her that fucking ring and then turn around and do this? It wasn't fair. True love doesn't die. Fairytales had assured her of that for as long as she could remember. The prince was supposed to ride up on a white horse, charm the princess, and they were supposed to ride off into the sunset together.

But this wasn't a fairytale. This was a nightmare.

At least, she would try to convince herself that it was until they arrived back at Stark Tower and she could have some time to herself. Otherwise, reality might prove to be a little too much for her.

"Do you want a drink?" Pepper suggested, opening a cooler beside her seat. "Tony never lets us go anywhere without this."

"I would love a drink," Alice agreed, her voice barely audible.

Nodding, Pepper pulled out three glasses and poured them each a bit of scotch. Alice was quite sure her glass had a notable amount more than the others, but she didn't say anything; simply downed it in a few swigs and hoped Pepper would offer her another.

Fortunately, Pepper seemed to have the same idea and they began round two.

* * *

The plane ride went relatively well. Alice only cried a couple of times, and by the time they reached Stark Tower, she was so drunk she could hardly stand. It was amazing how much alcohol helped her cope. Heather had cut her off at some point on the plane, but she had talked one of the flight attendants out of a few beers anyway. As the plane descended, she only puked a little.

"G-force isn't agreeing with me," she lied.

Heather and Pepper exchanged a glance that said they knew better, but didn't bother pointing it out. In their own little way, they seemed to understand, or at least thought they empathized enough to excuse her. After all, it isn't every day that you go from making wedding plans with the man of your dreams to finding out he's an angry exiled Norse God.

Their arrival at Stark Tower was far less exciting than Alice had hoped. No maids or butlers rushed out to meet them, nor was there an epic song and dance number about how they were "gonna like it here." Regardless, the glass elevator was pretty cool (even if Alice felt a little motion sick as it ascended). Alice and Heather were each given their own suite, and there was a piano that looked like it had never been touched residing in the living room that looked to be worth a few grand at least. Alice took mental note that she was going to have to remember to play it in the morning, if she wasn't too hung over.

"I hope your room is okay," Pepper smiled, helping Heather get Alice in to bed. "It's the best we could do on short notice."

"It's better than okay," Heather grinned. "They're fantastic."

"Do you think Alice is going to be okay?"

"Imma be fine," Alice promised, her words slurring rather badly. "I've turned JARVIS off for the night, but he will probably wake you up in the morning… with Tony's hangover cure."

"Tony has a cure for hangovers?" Alice breathed, closing her eyes to keep the room from spinning. The bed felt like it was rocking in a rather sickening way.

"He's got an arc reactor in his chest," Heather reminded under her breath. "Of course he has a hangover cure. The more important question is, who is JARVIS?"

"Remember the computer voice in the plane?" Pepper inquired. Heather nodded and Alice made a half-hearted motion to show she remembered as well. "That's him. He's sort of like Tony's automated butler. He's an artificial intelligence that controls all of the computers in the building."

"Is it a safe guess that most everything is computerized?"

"Of course."

After wishing them a good night, Pepper left Heather and Alice alone, saying she had work to go over before bed.

For a long time, Heather and Alice were silent; Alice trying to keep the room from spinning as Heather sat absently stroked the satin comforter.

"I know what you're thinking," Alice groaned. "I've had way too much to drink tonight."

"I was going to overlook that," Heather teased. "But since you said it…"

"Then what were you going to say?"

"That you should sleep in tomorrow. And…well…we'll talk about it later."

Still, Heather made no move to go to her own room. Alice wasn't going to force her to go either. Honestly, being alone seemed like the worst thing that could possibly happen at this point.

"Heather," Alice practically whispered. "Why didn't you warn me about John?"

"I didn't know," Heather defended.

"Yes you did. On the plane, you told Pepper about Stuttgart, about the guy that attacked there. It was Loki. You knew. You must have recognized John when you first met him."

"Would you have believed me? If I had told you that the man you were dating was actually an angry Norse God, would you have actually listened? No. We both know how stupid it would have sounded. Hell, I didn't believe it until today."

She had a point, but it still seemed unfair. Perhaps she was just looking for someone to blame for her heartache. Yet, to her drunken mind, it seemed as though Heather's warning could have saved her from this.

"I just wish I could have been prepared," she grumbled. "I don't know what to do. Heather… I think I'm heartbroken."

And with that confession, she burst into tears. Gross, breathless sobs shook her entire body.

"It's not fucking fair," she gasped. "We were supposed to get married, have kids, grow old together…supposed to have all of those stupid things that I never knew I wanted until I met him."

Heather's arms wrapped around her, pulling into a tight hug as Alice attempted to hold back her sobs. It was a fruitless effort. She had been holding them back since they left the club. There was no stopping them now.

"Why…just fucking…why?" Alice sobbed. "The one time I opened myself up…fall in love. He just leaves. He promised me everything and then left. And last night…last night he held me and kept calling me Mrs. Walker and told me how beautiful I was going to be in my wedding dress. I've never wanted anything so much in my life. But it sounded so perfect when he said it. And now….I'll never have any of that."

Her voice broke to give way to more tears.

"It hurts, Heather. Everything hurts. Everyone leaves…always. I'm so sick of being alone."

"You've got me," Heather offered.

"Yeah," Alice shrugged, her tears beginning to stain Heather's shirt. "Until you get a job somewhere. You'll leave the shop, move away…leave me."

"Do you really think I'd do that?"

"I wish I could say no. But you will. You have to. You're meant for better things than a fucking run down record store run by a deadbeat who gave up everything because she was scared of the world."

"You're not-"

"But I am! That's the worst part! That's why everyone fucking leaves. No one wants me. It started with mom and now it's like a disease. Dad and sis don't come around…hell they don't even call most of the time. I couldn't keep a guy until John and we see how that turned out. You're bound to leave eventually and I don't blame you."

"Alice! You're being silly!"

"No, I'm being honest."

"Alice," Heather said firmly. "I have never left you alone in your life. When you went to pick up Mary-Ann when you first got her and she was a piece of shit car that kept breaking down on the highway, who came to get you and drive you home?"

"You…"

"When you decided you wanted to run a record store instead of going to college, who opted to go to a local college instead of Europe so that you wouldn't be alone?"

"You turned down Europe?"

"Yes, but I'm not done yet. When your boyfriend turned into an angry Norse God and Tony Stark sent you to New York to keep you safe, who came along?"

"That last one doesn't count," Alice sniffled. "We didn't really have a choice."

"Shut up, I'm trying to sound like the hero, here."

This made Alice laugh, momentarily clearing her tears.

"You are my best friend," Heather smiled. "You will never have to do anything alone."

"Thank you," Alice sighed. "For everything."

When Heather felt Alice was calm enough, she went to get settled into her own room, leaving Alice alone with her thoughts and the loneliness that was clawing at her chest.

She didn't sleep that night, despite the alcohol that was kept trying to pull her into sweet oblivion. It was maddening. The cusp of unconsciousness would be at her feet, and then she would be swiftly hit with a new wave of self-loathing and loneliness and find herself back at square one.

* * *

Loki was brimming with power. It flowed through him like electricity, feeling so familiar and so incredibly new all at once. Oh, he had missed this!

The fight with Iron Man and Thor had not lasted long. Using a few body doubles, he had distracted the duo long enough to get away and teleport. In a flash he was gone, off to a new world, a new place to conquer with this newfound power. Yes, he would rule them as he had meant to rule Asgard, or even Midgard for that matter, and they would finally worship him as he was meant to be worshipped.

He felt his feet meet ground as the haze of magic began to fade. Blinking a few times, he let his eyes adjust to the new realm that he would soon take for his own. Breathing deep the scent of his land, he couldn't help feeling that it was familiar. Sort of sweet with a lingering hint of alcohol…wine…red wine…just like the kind that Alice used to…

_No._

As his eyes adjusted, he realized that he was standing in the middle of the wretched mortal girl's living room. This was not a new realm at all.

Cursing his subconscious, he again summoned the power necessary for teleportation. As he allowed the power to take him, he envisioned the world on which he wanted to land. The land of the elves filled his mind. They would not be difficult to overtake, especially once he formed a new army. Elves were weak minded enough to fall under his command easily.

Once again, magic filled his vision. His body drifted through time and space before his feet once again met the ground.

His vision cleared faster this time, eyes adjusting to take in….the kitchen of his mortal self's apartment.

"Oh, honestly!" he scoffed aloud, leaning against the counter to rest a moment before attempting (and hopefully succeeding) to leave Midgard again.

His hand came into contact with a crusty substance on the counter and he jerked away reflexively. There was still a blue paint smear from the previous night when he and Alice had…

There was a sinking feeling in his chest. The thought of his former mortal love was becoming more and more painful. Why?

Desperately, he summoned power again, feeling deep within him that this would have to be his last trip of the night. Though he was powerful, especially in this reborn state, he could not keep doing this. Teleportation took more magic than he normally dared to use and it was dangerous to exhaust his power in this way. However, he knew that he had to get off Midgard as fast as possible, and this was the only way.

When he materialized in Alice's garage, he let out a frustrated growl, kicking the tire of the old white Lincoln. Feeling exhausted and utterly sick of his magic betraying him like this, he opened the door and sank into the driver's seat.

It was so familiar that for the briefest of moments he forgot who he was. The mortal self that was hiding in his subconscious let out a contented sigh, inhaling the familiar mix of leather, cigarettes, and cheap air freshener. As he closed his eyes, he could picture Alice, wind blowing her auburn hair, a cigarette in one hand the other beating on the steering wheel in time with the drum beat of whatever was on the radio. She would sing along, and smile over at him when he happened to know the words, laughing about how she was rubbing off on him. Flicking the cigarette out the window, she would use that hand to steer so that she could reach over and take his hand in hers. Those red lips of hers would quirk as she leaned close, pressing her lips to his for a brief moment. It was so real in his mind, it practically felt like she was there with him...

And for a moment, just one, fleeting moment, he longed to be mortal again.


	13. Blinding

Author Note: Well, thank goodness for Christmas break. I know it's been forever, but I promise this story is not abandoned, nor will it ever be. I will finish it, but it's so hard to update when I'm in school because I literally have zero time.

This chapter was inspired by "Blinding" by Florence + the Machine.

* * *

The thing about dreams is that oftentimes they seem so close to reality that you really can't tell the difference. Thus Loki found that it was easiest to justify visiting Alice in her dreams because she could write them off as fantasy upon waking. Which meant, in a sense, he could too. He didn't have to admit to himself that he missed her.

It was far simpler to meditate and allow his subconscious to enter hers. They could talk, he could try to explain himself while her subconscious got angry with him, and then they would kiss and everything would slip into blissful fantasy.

And so, for the first few days of their separation, Loki used this to wean himself off of her presence. At least, that's what he told himself. After all, they were starting to fight more, which made him miss her less when he was awake.

Of course, "less" was not actually saying as much as he would have liked it to. "Less" meant that he could distract himself from thoughts of her. It meant that he could potentially leave Chicago from time to time. Admittedly, the farthest he had managed to get himself was New Mexico, which was not actually helpful.

So he stayed, going between apartments, thanking his lucky stars that Heather was with Alice and could not come poking around the apartment waiting for her to return from…wherever it was that Tony Stark had whisked them away to.

He was becoming pathetic, he knew this, yet he couldn't stop. Something had to be done about the girl, insisted the forefront of his mind. Once he found out where she was, something would be done. It was something the subconscious would hate for a while. However, it would be better for his sanity as a whole in the end….wouldn't it?

Currently, they were standing in the ethereal light of an imagined Chicago street. The record store was behind them, a busy Michigan Avenue visible in the distance. It was so convincing, their imagined reality. He wished he could be lost in it forever.

"You're being all distant again," she smiled, turning his face so that he was looking her in the eyes.

"Sorry, love," he laughed. "You are simply too beautiful tonight. My mind cannot comprehend."

"You are cheesy as shit. You know that?" she teased.

He did, in fact, know that. However, he had to be while he still could. The way she smiled, the light dancing in her eyes, he had to enjoy it while he had the chance.

"Why did you leave?" she whispered.

Usually that question didn't come up for a while. Most of the time he had at least a few minutes of nostalgia before she asked it. It made him angry that she was starting to ask it earlier each time she dreamt.

"I didn't want to," he replied. It was mostly true.

"But you did," she insisted. "You turned into a monster and then you left."

"Technically you left," he corrected, making her glare at him. "You're the one who left with Stark."

"I didn't have much of a choice!" she sputtered. "He said he was protecting me."

"Protecting you by taking you to…?"

She went quiet then, looking at him suspiciously.

"How do I know you're not still a monster?" she inquired, barely loud enough for him to hear.

It amazed him how quick she was even when dreaming.

"I am a monster, Alice." He grimaced. That wasn't what he'd meant to say.

Her mouth tightened at that, as if she had expected that answer, but still didn't like it.

"We were supposed to get married," she whispered, her voice shaking with tears that were inevitable. "You promised me everything…"

"And I intend to keep that promise, darling," he groaned. That was not true. "You know, until death do us part." That was slightly less untrue.

"You're already dead, John," she accused. "You died on the floor of that club. I watched you die."

That was new. She hadn't accused him of being dead before. Perhaps that was how she was coping with his sudden disappearance.

"I'm not dead," he chuckled, reaching out to take hold of her.

Shaking her head, she stepped back and pushed his arms away.

"You are dead, John. And I can't keep dreaming about you like this."

"But…darling."

He was at a loss. Usually she cried in his arms, yelled at him for disappearing, but she had never accused him of dying.

"No! I'm not….I can't…I can't keep doing this."

It was at that moment that he realized she had not meant to dream of him. Not that one can really choose what they dream of, but she usually didn't try to push him away like this. Generally she was happy to see him, happy to live in the lie they had made together.

This new turn of events angered him. Without thinking twice, he reached out and grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her to him.

"Oh yes you can," he said through gritted teeth. "If I can keep doing this you can too."

"Let go of me!" she protested. "John…this isn't like you."

"I told you to stop addressing me by that name, girl," he snarled.

Fear and horror took her face and her gaze fell from his. He realized she was on the verge of crying, which gave him a sick sort of pleasure. The mortal girl needed to suffer for the hell she was putting his mind through.

"Look at me," he demanded, grabbing hold of her hair and yanking her head back.

She screamed in a mix of pain and fury, the tears in her eyes escaping down her cheeks.

"Fuck you!" she cries, her fists slamming into his chest. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"I am Loki of Asgard," he replied without hesitation. "And you are going to pay for what you've done to me, mortal."

"I haven't done anything to you!" The girl was openly weeping now, the strain of trying to fight him contorting her face.

"But you have, stupid girl. You've done so much more than you can even comprehend. I will make you suffer for it, though. I will bring your worst fears to life. Your life will become a living nightmare."

He realized suddenly that the girl was laughing now; a bitter, hateful sound that made him stop his tirade.

"Don't you get it?" she spat. "You already have."

Growling, he pulled his hand back as if to strike her, but she was gone before he had the chance.

It was then that he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of a storefront window. The suit he had been wearing was now battle armor, his face was contorted with rage, and the horned helm on his head assisted in giving him an incredibly menacing air. Even though he had seen himself like this many times before, it seemed different now. Instead of looking like a God or King, he simply looked inhuman.

Maybe Alice was right. Maybe he was a monster.

* * *

Gasping, Alice sat up in bed. It was the third night in a row that she had dreamt of John and it was becoming increasingly unnerving. At first he had only shown up briefly, assuring her that everything would be okay, that he wasn't gone; the type of things that one would expect to dream after losing their significant other so suddenly. However, over the last few days the dreams had become more vivid, his claims of being alive becoming more and more desperate and their conversations beginning to escalate into fights that she doubted her subconscious could make up on its own.

Glancing over at the alarm clock on her nightstand, she couldn't help groaning at the time. 3:17AM was no time to be awake. And yet, she knew that if she tried to sleep, her dreams would be filled with John and his eerie insistence that he would come and find her so they could be together again.

Thinking it best not to tempt fate, she stretched and climbed out of bed, making a beeline for the kitchen. Pepper had shown her how to access Tony's liquor cabinet on their second day in New York. Thus far, she had been rather good about not getting into it. However, after the dreams she had been having, she felt she could use a drink.

Groaning, she reached for the scotch, which looked to be expensive and finely aged. Nothing like expensive liquor to drown the loneliness her dreams were creating.

After pouring herself a glass, she grabbed a sweater and stepped onto the balcony. Grabbing the pack of cigarettes out of her pocket, she lit one and inhaled deeply. The familiar burn of smoke on her throat gave her some amount of peace and dulled the emotional pain that was beginning to make her heart feel like an open wound.

It wasn't that she was unaccustomed to feeling heartbroken. That was pretty common, truth be told. At least, before John it had been. But this…this was different. This wasn't just heartbreak, it was physical pain. It was waking up feeling like the world was falling apart; feeling like her chest had turned into a gaping hole, and that hole would never be filled. It would just stay there and hurt for the rest of her life.

Taking another long drag, she stared out over the sprawling metropolis that was New York City. It was so different from Chicago, had a different air, a different personality. Though beautiful, it really just made her long for home.

"You know," came a voice from behind her. "That's really not a good way to solve your problems.

Alice gasped, causing her to choke on the smoke she had been inhaling. Hacking, she turned to see Tony Stark sauntering onto the balcony with a smaller, curly haired man in his wake.

"I thought," she choked out between coughing fits. "That you…were….in….California."

Gasping for air, she finally managed to get herself together. Tony was smirking as if trying to hold back laughter, and she fixed him with a glare.

"I was," he replied, ignoring her indignant stare. "I had to drop off Point Break and pick up an old friend."

The smaller man stepped up then, smiling shyly. He was a rather timid looking man; certainly not the type of person Alice imagined Tony Stark hanging around with. Of course, hanging out with quiet people did leave more room for Tony to talk. And he really did love to talk.

"Alice, this is Bruce Banner," Tony introduced. "Full time scientist and part time green rage monster."

Rolling his eyes at the last comment, Bruce extended his hand for Alice to shake.

"Bruce, this is Alice, record store owner, sexy punk rocker, and….well…we talked about that already."

Alice knew exactly what he was about to say and she thanked every god she could think of that he didn't.

"It's nice to meet you," she offered pleasantly, shaking his hand.

"You too," Bruce smiled. "Tony told me about the…um…what happened the other night. I'm really sorry."

Offering her best attempt at a smile, Alice shrugged as if it were no big deal. For the slightest of moments there was a pain in Bruce's eyes, as if he were reliving some sort of loss simply by looking at her.

"Thanks," Alice sighed. "It's been a rough couple of days."

"I would imagine," he offered. "I met his…less pleasant side. Not the nicest guy."

Biting her lip, Alice nodded.

"The worst part is that he was the nicest guy before…"

She trailed off, a sob catching in her throat. After letting out a shaky breath, she took a swig of her scotch. The burn of the alcohol assuaged the tension in her throat and she eased the rest of the pain with a long draw on her cigarette.

"So, you're the Hulk?" she inquired, desperate to change the subject.

An uncomfortable laughed escaped Bruce and he shrugged awkwardly.

"I…uh…I guess you could say that," he chuckled. "I try not to let the Other Guy out too often, though. He tends to make a mess."

"Bruce still hasn't quite accepted the superhero role yet," Tony put it. "He's modest."

"That's one way of putting it."

"You can step up to the plate when the occasion presents itself."

"It takes a pretty big occasion."

"Is that why you're here?" Alice found herself asking. "Because of Jo-" She cut herself short, shaking her head. "I mean, because Loki is back?"

It seemed a little blunt, but the pieces were suddenly falling into place for Alice. Tony really thought that Loki would come looking for her and he was calling in the big guns to fend him off.

"Well," Tony tentatively sighed. "He's mostly here to help me with a little project. But he could help protect you from your crazy ex-boyfriend if need be."

Realization took Bruce's face as if it had legitimately not occurred to him that Tony was expecting him to potentially fight Loki.

"Why don't you head down to the lab?" Tony suggested suddenly, catching on to Bruce's sudden hesitance. "I'll be down in a couple minutes. You know your way around."

Jumping at the chance to get away, Bruce gave Alice a quick farewell and headed inside.

For a while Alice and Tony stood in silence, staring out at the city below. The cool night air blew the smoke from Alice's lips and into the abyss.

"So you really think he's coming for me?" she asked, leaning heavily against the clear guard wall.

"You can never be too careful," Tony replied, doing his best to avoid answering the question directly.

"But you are being extra careful."

"Bruce is really just here-"

"Because he's your science buddy. Yeah, I got that. But let's be honest, you would bring the Hulk over to play with science toys with this sort of situation looming overhead. I may not fully understand what's going on, but I know what John turned into. I know he's dangerous. I remember what happened to New York a few years ago."

Looking conflicted, Tony hung his head.

"Listen," he sighed, looking up at her seriously. "This could get dangerous. We know what Loki did last time he was here. I just don't think it would hurt to be prepared. I don't necessarily know if he'll come for you, but I do know that he is bound to do something."

"But you're bringing them all here. At least, you've brought Bruce here and if anyone is capable of taking on an angry…whatever Loki is…I imagine it would be him. Why?"

"Because you know his weaknesses, Alice."

It looked as though it caused Tony actual pain to admit this. His eyebrows were creased worriedly behind his glasses and his mouth formed a tight line when he wasn't speaking.

"So you think he's going to come after me? And then what? What will he do to me, Tony?"

The billionaire sighed and took the glass of scotch from her hand, taking a drink for himself before handing the now-empty glass back to her.

"Honestly?" he groaned. "I think he'd kill you. Cut all ties that his mortal self had on Earth."

"But why?"

"Because Thor says he hasn't left Earth yet. We were convinced he would use his new power to leave here, get back to Asgard, seek revenge there. But he hasn't. The big guy doesn't think he can leave…"

Alice nodded her understanding, flicking the butt of her cigarette off the balcony without a second thought.

"But you guys are going to protect me, right?"

"Of course."

"You've got the Avengers on your side," Tony assured her. "You'll be just fine."

Smiling reassuringly at her, Tony led Alice back into the tower.

* * *

This time they met on the balcony of Stark Tower. Loki recognized it instantly and knew without a doubt that this is where Alice was currently residing. He wasn't sure why it hadn't occurred to him before, but it made perfect sense now.

"So this is where they're hiding you, is it?" he smirked, running a hand across her cheek.

"Tony is a wonderful host," Alice gushed, seeming to have forgotten their earlier fight.

"Don't you miss me?" Loki purred, bringing his face inches from hers.

"Of course I do!" Alice giggled, her nose brushing his. "Do you miss me?"

"Terribly, love."

He couldn't help himself. It was driving him crazy to have her so close. Even if they were simply sharing her dream, he knew kissing her would still be satisfying. His lips attacked hers with force, causing her to let out a satisfied moan against his skin. Tongues crazed, hair was pulled, and he even snuck his hands under her shirt for good measure. Though it was only a dream, her skin still felt real and familiar. Oh, how he had missed that soft skin.

"I'm going to come for you, darling," he promised, resting his forehead against hers. "You won't have to miss me for long."

After giving her one last kiss, he withdrew from her subconscious, finding himself sitting in her old living room.

He knew where she was now and he could go after her. Nothing would stop him from kidnapping the mortal girl and ridding his mind of her once and for all.


End file.
